Honour and Pride: The Mantis Saga
by Beer-monster
Summary: Ranma had matured since the battle with Saffron, but a martial artists strength flows from his fights, and now Ranma will take the first step on a journey that will teach him the true way of the warrior. But first his pride must be broken. Saga Complete
1. Fighter's Heart

**_HONOUR AND PRIDE_**

**_By Beer -Monster_**

Book I: The Mantis Saga. 

****

**Chapter One: Fighter's Heart.**

The blast ripped through the air like a thunder clap, an invisible shock wave carried the immense sound across the vacant parking lot., the sonic tide made car windows and headlights burst in their welding. A giant sphere of fire erupted from the center of the chaos, throwing flaming chunks of tarmac high into the air, the high velocity of the shrapnel giving off a keening wail. As suddenly as it had come the explosion disappeared, the light and smoke cleared to reveal a figure standing amongst the cracked and fiery pavement. 

The figure was dressed in thick black shirt and pants, which cut a harsh silhouette against the dull red of the street lit night sky of Tokyo. His jet black hair was pulled back in a long tail which hung down his back, stirring slightly with the wind. His thin lips were drawn into tight frown of what seemed irritation. His brows were furrowed and shaven making his forehead seem slightly protruding. The eyes beneath those angry brows, seemed to shine with an unnaturally pure green, such as that which shimmers in the facets of a rare emerald. 

" Come on out old one," the man called to the empty lot. " You challenged me remember. This is a duel, and you choose to hide in the shadows like a rat." Only the wind answered him, his frown deepened. 

" Is this the tactic of your worthless school, to cower like a worm when you run out of tricks?" 

Suddenly the air shifted to his left, a diminutive shadow dove at him from the darkness. 

His lips slowly drew into a cruel smirk as he sidestepped the lunging attack. The tiny figure recovered swiftly by twisting into a somersault and bouncing off the charred bonnet of a car as if it were a spring board. The midget arrowed his body into a flying sidekick which the larger man once again dodged before throwing his fist out like cannon ball. The small creature twisted around the punch, blocking with a gnarled palm. Almost as soon as the two limbs made contact did the black-clad man fly high into the sky, his body spinning and flailing uncontrollably. Soon however, gravity took over and he began to dropped to the ground at high speed. 

There was a brilliant flash of green light, and mere inches from the ground the falling body suddenly reversed in his direction, rising up brief enough to allow him to land on his feet in a crouch. 

" I can't believe I fell for that," he cried more to himself than his opponent who was now breathing heavily and huddled in shock. 

" Oh well," the man said. " This is getting boring." 

The gnarled creature began to shake and quiver as the air began to glow with an ethereal green light. There was shorts sparks and flashes of electricity as the atmosphere became charged with power. The puny little midgets eyes widened and for the first time in centuries it felt fear. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

THE NEXT MORNING. 

The sun glittered over the water as it flowed rapidly between its concrete banks. The air was filled with the horns of the cars and trains which carried Tokyo's busy commuters to the heart of the city. The streets were filled with school children in their smart and ironed uniforms heading towards another long, boring day of education. 

" Is something wrong Ranma?" asked one of those school girls. Short, tousled blue-black hair lightly feathered her brow, and hung over her blue eyes. Her pale-skinned and pretty face wore an expression of concern as she looked up at her fiancé, who had not yet responded. 

" Ranma?" 

" What!" her companion snapped irritated to be pulled from his thoughts. 

" Don't snap as me," the girl huffed. " I was just trying to shown some concern you jerk." 

" Why. I'm fine?" he answered absently. 

" It's just you were rather quiet at breakfast this morning, and didn't put up much of a fight when your father tried to steal your food," she said looking down at the book bag clasped in her hands. 

" It's nothing Akane." 

Akane watched Ranma saunter along the top of the chain link fence. Stepping across its two inch thick surface as if he was walking on pavement. His blue-grey eyes seemed rather distant, his focus far away on some worry. The shade of his irises changed as the light took them, 

the colour now like a cloudy morning sky. His jet, black hair was tied bound in its usual pigtail, grown longer in recent months so that it now hung down his back, bouncing between his shoulder blades as he walked. The sunlight shimmered across the surface of the red, satin shirt he 

wore, of simple Chinese style with yellow, lace ties. The outfit was completed with a pair of plain black trousers, loose fitting yet tied tightly at the ankles so it did not impede his graceful movements. His youth was betrayed in the sparseness of the course hairs that grew on his chin 

and lines the lips that were set in a distracted frown. This expression worried Akane as it would anyone who knew the boy. Frowns and worry were just so "un-Ranma" 

_He hasn't been the same since Jusendo_ she mused. It was true now that she looked back, although it had taken her a while to notice his change of mood. Actually she had realised when one day she had noticed that she had not punted her fiancé into Tokyo sky line recently. Ranma just seemed so despondent, he just seemed to coast through the day, never putting any effort or focus into anything ( unless it annoyed him). He ate slower, talked quietly and usually in one sentence responses. He barely fought in his spars with his father, just stood there shifting his stance to dodge Genma's attacks until the old man exhausted himself. They still argued but it was different, she would yell and throw things and he just sat there. He never said anything, never shouted, never argued back. He just sat there taking it, plucking flying mallets from the air as they came near him. Then when she ran out of insults and missile weapons he would ask something like " Are you done yellin'?" then walk off. At first she had though he was up to something but now she wasn't sure. He really seemed down. 

They came to the gates of Furinkan High school and joined the stream of disgruntled teenagers making their way into the building. Akane smiled and waved to her friends Yuka and Sayuri as she saw them across the yard. 

" Hiya Ranchan!" she heard said from her left. Turning she watched the figure in a gray version of the boy's uniform approach them. At first the teen with the long, chestnut-brown hair held in a long ponytail could be mistaken for a boy. But as they came closer, the wide, hazel eyes 

beneath long lashes, and the feminine curves almost unnoticeable under the gray suit showed that this was no boy. 

Ranma's frown curled upwards into a friendly grin as she approached. " Hey Ucchan," he greeted affectionately. 

Akane ground her teeth together as Ukyo immediately latched on Ranma's right arm, hugging it to her. It was a friendly gesture and certainly tamer than the Shampoo's glomps but 

it was more contact than she was getting. And the fact that he did it right in front of her, and was doing nothing to remove the fawning chef from his arm just made Akane madder. 

_I talk to him all morning and I get the silent treatment. That hussy turns up for five seconds and he's all smiles_, Akane thought furiously, failing to notice that his smile did not reach his eyes which remained dull and sorrowful. In fact she was just about to pound him into an unattractive mass of bruises, when her wrath was interrupted by a over-dramatic shout. 

" YOUR HOUR IS NIGH VILE-SORCERER SAOTOME 

The shout rang out over the chatting voices of the student as a young man, with dark curls 

hanging over his eyes came running out of the crown. He was dressed in a the ludicrous costume of wannabe samurai, dark blue hakama with a gi of a lighter shade. He wove a bokken over his head like the sword of Damocles as he continued spouting utter babble. 

" TODAY I TATEWAKI KUNO, SHALL BRING DIVINE JUSTICE UPON YOU." 

Ranma let out a sigh, " Like bloody Sailor Moon.," he muttered under his breath. Pushing Ukyo away he did not bother assuming any sort of stance as he waited for Kuno to begin his assault. Ukyo pouted angrily at being shoved aside, but obligingly moved out of Ranma's way. 

Kuno noticing that the " despicable wretch" did not move began having more delusion of grandeur. 

" Ah, I see you do not attempt to flee. You must realise that it is futile to try and escape the Blue Thunder's might." he said and struck out on the last words. Slicing for Ranma's head. 

The pigtailed youth ducked the obvious slash then sidestepped the Upperclassman's follow up strike. Kuno drew back his blade and stabbed at Ranma, who twisted on the spot letting the wooden point slide past his chest. Overextended and off balance, Kuno stumbled his stance dropping as he tried to avoid falling on his face. He recovered quickly and tried to use his low position as an advantage by slashing at Ranma's left leg. The young martial-artist simply lifted his leg then stamped it down. He stood on Kuno's bokken, pinning the the wooden blade beneath the sole of his soft slipper. The older boy's eyes widened in a moment of fear and anticipation of great pain as he saw Ranma's other foot draw back. 

PUNT 

The pompous Kendoka want sailing through into the Stratosphere and over the horizon. 

Someone in the gathered crowd asked his friend, " I wonder if Akane or Ranma would win the gold medal if ' long distance moron kicking' was an Olympic event." 

Ranma sighed again, loudly before trudging into school without even waiting for Akane. 

Both Akane and Ukyo watched him go, brows furrowed with joint concern and curiosity. 

They knew something was wrong with Ranma, but as he had watched Kuno rocket into the distance, a great void had passed through his eyes. He had seemed empty, lost. Whatever was wrong, both knew it was serious, and as they made their way to class both made their own plans on how to help him. 

**LUNCH**

****

****The first two lessons of the day passed swiftly for Ranma, of course this was because he had slept through both of them. Head down on his desk, and a small puddle of drool forming as he snored over the teachers' droning voices. When the bell finally rang for lunch, he was jolted awake. Seeing the other students grabbing their things and heading for the cafeteria he grabbed his own bento, checked Akane was not watching, and vaulted out of the open window. Settling under the shade of a large tree, he sat on the grass and unwrapped his meal. He inhaled the wonderful sushi that had been made with Kasumi's loving hands with relish. Then he lay back, against the tree and looked upwards. He watched the sunlight fall through the leaves and sighed. 

It all seemed fake and detached. As if he was seeing the world through someone else's, eyes. Everything was flat, without form or dimensions like an old black and white photo. The vibrant pulse of life that he had once exulted in was gone. Now he felt as if he was not living any more, he was simply alive. 

He sensed someone's approach. He hurriedly sat up, expecting to have to excuse and defend himself and his absence to Akane. Then he saw it was just Ukyo and relaxed. 

" Hey Ucchan," he said not finding the energy to put even false joy into his voice. 

The chef smiled slightly and knelt down in front of him. Reaching back, to free her hair from her ribbon so that it blew gently in the wind. A silence hung in the air about them, Ranma sat there watching Ukyo intently, making her blush under his gaze and drop her eyes to the grass. 

" So watcha doing out here Ranma-honey?" she asked finally. 

" Jus' thinkin'" he replied. 

" What about?" 

" Nothin'." 

Ukyo grimaced cutely. This was getting her nowhere and fast. She would have to try a more direct method. 

" C'mon Ranma, I know something's bothering you, tell me. Maybe I can help." 

Ranma snorted stubbornly. " What make you think there somethin' wrong wi'me" he asked drily. 

" Because it's obvious," she answered simply. " Because I know you too well. Because I'm your fiancé, and I need to know these things if we're to be married." 

Ranma's eyes widened at the word 'married' and he began breathing heavily and spluttering excuses. His eyes darted about warily as if to expect Akane to come from nowhere and mallet him into oblivion. Ukyo's shoulders slumped, she should have expected as much. Talking to Ranma was like trying to ride a wild, and frightened horse, it took a lot of patience and soft words. She would have to try a different angles. 

" I'll tell you what Ranchan. I make you your favorite okonomiyaki and you can tell me all about it. Just like the old days." 

Ranma brightened at this idea and nodded slowly. He was still hungry after all. 

Smiling Ukyo reached into a little rift in the fabric of space and time, and pulled a portable grill from a small, splinter dimension. Interestingly enough this dimension was also home to a vast assortment of objects, including Akane's hammers, Shampoo's bonbori and several Boeing 747's that had mysteriously gone missing near Bermuda. 

Quickly the air was filled with the scent of grilling batter, pork and sauce. And a strange ringing noise that seemed to be getting closer. Suddenly the sound seemed to come from right above him, and his eyes widened in realisation. He attempted to roll to the side but was too late as a tyre impacted hard against the back of his head. 

" NIHAO AI RE...huh!?" 

The tyre had been attached to a slender bicycle, upon which dressed in blue, Chinese silks 

rode a girl who could only be described as beautiful. Her lavender hair swayed, as her head pivoted frantically, the bright gleam in her blue eyes and a cute pout told that she was searching for something. Seeing nothing but Ukyo, whose had paused in in her cooking to stare daggers at the purple-haired newcomer, the girl's eyes narrowed. 

" What sneaky spatula girl do with Ai Ren?" she asked venomously. 

" You crushed him dim wit." 

" Who you call dim wit," the girl shot back. Then she became aware of a dull moaning and cocked her head listening. Then she could swear she heard something mumbling. 

" Shmpou git yr rddi byke uf my hid!" _Translation: Shampoo get your bloody bike of my head!_

The girl looked down and saw Ranma sprawled under her bike, twitching occasionally with limbs stuck out at unnatural angles. Throwing her bike aside the lavender beauty picked Ranma up and dusted him off. 

" Silly Ranma, what you do under Shampoo's bike?" 

" You landed on me, remember," he yelled indignantly. 

Ignoring his anger Shampoo instead pounced on Ranma and pressed herself ( and her considerable assets) into him tightly in that time-honoured Amazon tradition known as the 'glomp'. 

" Ai ren take Shampoo on date yes," it wasn't really a quest as much as it was an order. 

" Urk, Shampoo ' Ai Ren' can't breath." said Ranma who was already turning an interesting shade of blue. 

Luckily for Ranma the two were pried apart by a huge spatula before he could suffer too much asphyxiation. Ukyo's face was livid as she stood between Shampoo and Ranma defensively, holding her Spatual out vertically like some sort of shield. 

" Get your slutty Tang hands of my Ranchan," she spat at the other woman. 

" Why spatula girl try to take Ranma from his wife, she know that Shampoo will just beat her as always," Shampoo taunted. Blood suffused Ukyo's face as she bared her teeth. 

" You think you can take me down, you little Tramp!" she snarled. 

" No think, Shampoo know she can." Shampoo now wore a cocky smirk, which Ranma thought must be similar to the one he often wore. 

" Let's see," Ukyo challenged pulling a razor-sharp mini spatula from nowhere and cast it at Shampoo. The cooking implement turned dart streaked towards Shampoo's heart, who braced herself ready to dodge. 

CACHING 

A dull metallic sound rang through the air as something struck the spatula in mid-flight. The weapon's tradjectory was diverted and it tumbled harmlessly to the grass. The other flying object struck the earth and buried itself in the thick soil, revealing itself to be a short throwing knife. 

The sound of wind-ruffled cloth filled the air with a rapid flapping as a white blur came somersaulting out of nowhere, streams of white fabric trailing behind it. The newcomer landed between Shampoo and Ukyo, standing to his full height as his long, black hair and snow-white robes fluttering gently in the noon breeze. The young mans face twisted into an angry grimace 

as he spun and shouted at the purple-haired amazon 

" How dare you attack my beloved Shampoo you bastard, I'll kill you!" He lunged at the girl on the last word ready to carry out his threat. But his attack was intercepted by a well placed and violent foot to the face. 

" Stupid Mousse," his target spat. " I is Shampoo." 

" Huh!?" the boy replied and swiftly retrieved a pair of bifocals from the expanse of his sleeve. The lenses were gigantic and thick, the glass catching and warping the light of the sun like the bottom of a bottle so that his eyes were invisible beneath the refracted glare. His mouth dropped open and he once again leapt at Shampoo, this time his arms flung open ready to embrace. 

" Shampoo, my darling." he gushed. 

Once again Shampoo's foot found his face stopping him in his tracks. He recovered swiftly, this time focussing his attentions on Ukyo. 

" It was a spatula that had been shooting towards my Shampoo's heart," he said softly his lip curling in to a snarl. " You will pay for attacking my Love, Kuonji." 

" Well the whore shouldn't of had her filthy feline paws on my Ranchan." 

" Are you calling my beautiful flower a whore, you.....huh Ranma." His attention turned to the pigtailed boy who was currently brushing the tire marks from his clothes, and trying not to be involved in the trio's feud. Mousse grit his teeth together. 

" SAOTOME HOW DARE YOU GROPE SHAMPOO!." He yelled as he withdrew a mace from the folds of his robe and swung it at Ranma. The other youth evaded the blow easily, jumping back out of the weapons reach. Unfortunately this brought him next to Shampoo who immediately latched on to him, squeezing him tightly. 

" Go away Mousse." she said hugging Ranma harder. " Ranma is Shampoo's Ai Ren, he can do whatever want with Shampoo." 

Mousse growled and his face flushed with rage, his hands clasped the sleeves of his robes in a white-knuckled grip. Ranma smirked, and wrapped one arm around the girls waist, pulling her closer. 

" Yeah Mousse, buzz off. Me and Shampoo are gonna have some fun." his smirk deepened as his other arm ran it's way down the bouncy Amazon's curves. Shampoo's eyes widened and she gasped, then her eyes shank shut and she held Ranma tighter. 

" Ooh Ranma," she cooed. 

Mousse was steaming, he trembled with mounting fury. His glasses fogged and his brows furrowed, eyes narrowing. He bared his teeth in a viscous snarl, spittle flying from his lips as he seethed. 

Ranma then blew in Shampoo's ear as his arm slipped down and he cupped her buttock in his left palm, rubbing slightly. His eyes were still fixed on the Chinese boy, still smirking. 

" Mmm nice," he said in a husky whisper loud enough for Mousse to hear as he squeezed the flesh gently. 

" YOU WILL DIE!" Mousse screamed with primal rage as he lost control and charged forwards, brandishing a large battle axe. 

Gripping Shampoo firmly about the waist, Ranma spun out of Mousse's path, swinging the young woman out of range as well. Pouting angrily, Shampoo broke out of Ranma's hold, and began stomping towards the robed fighter, rolling up her sleaves and clenching her fists. 

" Shampoo beat Mousse to pulp for ruining time with Ranma," she growled. 

She stopped in her rage as Ranma stepped in front of her and flung out a hand, blocking her path. 

" No Shampoo," he said firmly. " If he wants ta fight me I'm up for it." 

This statement made Mousse pause, his anger dimming slightly as his suspicion rose. _What is Ranma up to?_ he asked silently. Usually Ranma did everything possible to avoid trouble, especially where his fiancés were concerned. Mostly when things did get out of hand he would try and get his enemy's fighting amongst themselves as he ran off with Akane to safety. But now he actually wanted to fight him. His brain however shut down all thought as he realised that Ranma was touching his beloved again. 

" You fight for me Ranma?" Shampoo said eyes growing wide. " I so happy." She lunged for Ranma ready to glomp. But Ranma thrust his stiffened fingers into her chest gently, she halted mid-hug. 

" Not now Shampoo," he said flatly. 

Then he noticed that his hand was nestled between two of Shampoo's "more prominent" 

assets and jerked his arm back as if it was on fire. Shampoo frowned but obligingly moved out of Ranma's way. Mousse was still stood there, watching Ranma keenly through his spectacles, still suspicious. 

" C'mon Mousse I ain't got all day." Ranma coaxed. " I got places to go, Amazon's to do." 

It took several moments for the true meaning behind his comment to sink into Mousse's brain. But when it did the nearsighted boy was furious. He shrieked as he sped towards Ranma, his mind so blinded by the red mist of anger, that he completely forgot about his arsenal of hidden weapons, attacking instead with a barrage of punches. His hands a blur as he struck out at his rival. 

Ranma slipped between the blows as if they were nothing, passing around and under the range of Mousse's fists. The Chinese warrior's robes billowed open as he swung his foot in a roundhouse kick to the head. Ranma lashed out with his own foot, intercepting and jamming the kick before it could hit, then snapping out to strike Mousse in the gut. The other boy grunted and doubled over in pain. The pigtailed martial artist used this distraction to leap back, increasing the distance between them. 

The kick to the belly was a superficial blow, the minor pain only serving to snap Mousse's mind from it's blind fury and force it to think again. Flinging out his arm, he launched a deadly volley of chains, harpoons, claws and yo-yo's at his opponent. 

Ranma's lips twisted to form a cocky grin, as his arms came to form a cross in front of him. The flailing weapons struck his arm and wrapped themselves about his wrists. In a single, swift movement he grasped the chains in his fists and yanked sharply. The speed of the maneuver and Ranma's strength pulled Mousse from his feet and brought him flying forwards. 

The myopic boy hastily released the arsenal but his momentum continued to carry him towards his opponent, who seized his opportunity and slammed his foot into Mousse's midriff. 

The blow sent him reeling back, as Ranma untangled his arms from the remaining chains. 

" Ugh," Mousse groaned as he pulled himself up. " Damn you Saotome." 

" I'LL KILL YOU," he screamed as he stood and send several small hatchets flying at the 

pigtailed fighter. Ranma dodged them easily, not noticing Mousse's smirk or the eggs that had been shot at him. 

BOOM. 

The area where Ranma had stood exploded. Dirt and rock was spat in to the air as a modest geyser of fire shot up and scorched the grass. Smoke billowed everywhere, covering everything. Ukyo and Shampoo coughed as they peeked through the mist for any sign of the young, martial artist. 

Mousse too, was searching through the haze, seeking his fallen foe so that he could know that he had won, and gloat over his victory. But where he expected to see Ranma's charred corpse, all he could see was white. 

Shit! he snapped in Cantonese as he realised that the smoke had fogged up his glasses. 

he continued squinting through the smoke as he wiped the lenses on his robes. 

He replaced his spectacles and blinked to clear his vision. 

Mousse's eyes widened in horror, as his sight was filled with the crystal clear image of a foot flying towards his face. Then it all went black, and he had the curious sensation that he was flying. 

" Aiyaa, Ranma whoop Mousse good." Shampoo proclaimed as she saw Ranma land with perfect form, body still twisting from the force of his kick. She then promptly latched on to him. 

" Ranma, worry Shampoo. Think Stupid Mousse almost kill Ranma." 

" Naw, he couldn't even touch me." Ranma exclaimed proudly. Then he repeated it, pausing. " He couldn't...couldn't even touch me," his voice had trailed to a frail whisper. 

Shampoo noticed this, Ranma never sounded so low, so weak. Especially not after a victory. However she thought it best to carry on as normal. 

" Ranma now take Shampoo on date, have fun Ranma talk about," she cried squeezing him tighter. 

He just then he became aware of the silence of the school grounds and guessed at the time. 

" Sorry Shampoo I gotta go, I'm late for class." he yelped breaking himself away from the Amazon's grip and running towards the school building, barely stopping to wave farewell. 

Once he was sure he was out of Shampoo's sight he slowed pondering his fight, the resultant feeling of loss after his victory, and the events preceding the conflict. _Hey I wonder where Ucchan went? _he thought. _I never did get that Okonomiyaki. _

Just then a small flying disc, that was secretly being monitored by NASA as a possible UFO slapped against Ranma's face, knocking him from his feet and onto his back. With typical Nerima irony it revealed itself to be an Okonomiyaki, the sauce was smudged but could still be made out to spell the word; JACKASS!!. 

**LATER**

****

****Ranma sat with his legs crossed on the polished wood floor of the dojo. His hands were laid in his lap, fingers interlaced with thumbs stretched upwards. His brow trembled over his closed eyes as he sought the calm, center within. However with the chaos that he swept towards him like chips in a whirlpool, inner peace was hard to find. 

Akane had been told about the incident with Shampoo and Mousse. His guess was that Ukyo had come in fuming at him and told her the gist while Nabiki filled in the details, at a profit. 

Once again he had gone soaring through the Tokyo skyline thanks to Mallet airways, and had put quite a scare into the poor family whose window he crashed through. Although, this time he had felt he deserved it for once. Akane was right, he **had ** been flirting with Shampoo. However as was vintage Akane, she had ignored his futile attempt to explain, not that he had any explanation. 

Even he was not quite sure why he had been fooling around with Shampoo. His instincts had told him to do it, told him to search for something in Mousse. Something that he had lost since Jusendo. 

" Ugh!" he grunted to himself disgustedly, before returning to his meditation. 

He delved, deep inside his soul. Feeling his own energy burning, shining like the sun. It swelled in his abdomen, pulsating calmly. Radiating energy like light hidden behind his eyes. Heat filled his body, singing through his veins like liquid warmth. 

Settling himself and his energy, he extended his sensed outwards. Slowly, gradually the world opened up to him, like the petal of a blooming rose. It was sight beyond sight. He could feel the world around him, the bark on the trees in the garden as if he were running his hand along the branches, the cold of the pond water and if he were bathing in it. The sound of the breeze against the hound was deafening, and the scent of sweat and wood in the dojo threatened to clog his nostrils. Ranma could sense the ebb and flow of Ki around him, feel it swarm through the air like waves of colour, feel it in the people in the house and street like balls of light. 

The air around him grew denser, heavier as it sank under waves of despair. Pain, anger and regret clouded his senses, he opened his eyes, half expecting to see a mist of sorrow filling the room. The dark feelings of hopeless collected beneath him, growing stronger and darker. Ranma unfolded his legs and rose to a crouch, poised on the balls of his feet like a leopard. He probed carefully, his senses screaming as the grief and woe came closer and became more intense. 

Instinct hit him like a lightning bolt and he leapt aside, as a hand thrust up through the floorboards. The fingers clawed at the air for a moment, flexing and twisting as if searching before retracting back into the hole, being swiftly replaced by a head possessing thick, black curls held form a pair of angry, green eyes by a tiger skin bandanna. The head swiveled, eyes blinking then fixing on Ranma, the brows then lowered and the youth growled, revealing a pair of fangs. The arm then resurfaced to take a grip of the floor and pull the rest of the boy's body up through the hole. He wore a heavy jerkin of coarse, yellow canvas, and black pants bound around the calves 

by leather straps. His bulging pack made a shook the ground and splintered the floor, as he slung 

it from his shoulders. He then cast aside a large umbrella of wood and red cloth which fell to the floor with a loud crash. All the time his gaze had not moved from Ranma, and his snarl had only deepened. 

" Ranma!" he barked with malice. 

" Hey Ryoga, how ya been?" Ranma responded cheerily ignoring the other boy's obvious 

animosity. 

" Shut up!" Ryoga yelled as he crawled out of his hole. 

" You seem angry P-Chan, does that sweet and sour pork sauce itch?" 

" Damn you Ranma don't mock me" 

" Aw, but it's so much fun." Ranma mock whined with a large grin. 

" Stuff it you jerk," he growled. " I just came from the Nekohanten." 

" And you managed to make it here without coming via Taiwan, I'm impressed." Ranma joked. 

" Damn it Ranma, Mousse told me how you groped Shampoo and attacked him. HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO AKANE!?" 

Ranma sighed. It was strange how events were different in someone else's perspective. And how that change usually made him the villain. Then he smiled, as he felt that sensation he had lost and now craved again like an addict. He stood facing Ryoga, still grinning cockily. 

" So I take it you want a fight." It was not really a question as he already knew the answer. 

" No Ranma I want you to suffer," he replied coldly. 

" Well that's what everyone seems to want. But that's what the dojo's for. So gimme your best shot." 

Ryoga made a sound that was half-snort, half-laugh then rushed forwards revealing his fangs as he snarled his trademark phrase, "RANMA PREPARE TO DIE!!" 

He lunged forwards into a punch which Ranma easily dodged. He then struck out with his left hand trying to grab Ranma's throat. The pigtailed one batted aside the hand and responded with a fist to Ryoga face. 

It was like punching steel. 

Barely feeling Ranma's strike Ryoga grasped two handfuls of his enemies shirt and simply lifted Ranma from his feet effortlessly. He bore his teeth as he watched Ranma's eyes widen, then lifted the other boy over his head and slammed him into the floor with all of his brute strength. 

Ranma gasped as the impact drove the air from his lungs, spots clouded his sight as he watched a black and yellow blur grow larger above him. The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened, and he rolled to the side as Ryoga's fist made a crater where his head had been. Still on his back he lashed out with his foot in an arching kick which caught the lost boy on the top of his head. 

Ryoga staggered back, rubbing his crown as Ranma flipped onto his feet and twisted sharply, putting his fist into Ryoga's gut. 

RRRRT! 

The bandanna clad youth grunted and his legs trembled as a hundred hands seemed to slam into his ribs at once. He had felt this technique before, after he had trained with Cologne. Only this time Ranma was not having any trouble breathing as he pulled back, still smiling. 

Ranma could barely contain his shock as Ryoga dropped to his knees. It couldn't be over yet, _I only hit him one hundred and twenty-six times, _he thought knowing that with Ryoga's endurance that was not enough. 

Then like a bullet Ryoga dove forwards thrusting his finger into the floor. 

BAKUSAI TENKETSU. 

The ground exploded with a ear-shattering bang. Splinters of wood and stone spouted up wards, hammering both combatants. Ranma covered his eyes from the flying shrapnel while Ryoga did not even register the impacts as the rocks bounced off of him harmlessly. 

Dashing around the blast Ranma swung his hips into a roundhouse kick which caught the still crouched Ryoga in his already bruised ribs. The larger boy yelped and pulled back, cradling his side with one arm. 

Ranma smirked and Ryoga snarled as both fighters rose to their feet. 

" Stop smiling Damn you, this a fight." Ryoga shouted. 

" Just find it kinda funny, how much of a wimp you've become." 

" WIMP" Ryoga screamed as a dark, depressed green aura, began swarming around him. 

" I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'S A WIMP." 

Ranma kept on smiling as he ran forward to meet his rival's furious charge. 

**48 MINUTES LATER.**

****

****The sound of dogs barking into the night entered the empty restaurant as the door swung closed behind Ukyo's last customer. 

" Thanks come again," she heard Konatsu say reflexively as he wiped tables, and began relaying them for tomorrow lunch. 

Ukyo barely looked up as she scrubbed hard at the surface of her grill, her wire scourer sending repeated metallic rasps into the air as it wore aware at the charred batter stains. 

Neither Chef nor Waiter( Waitress?) spoke as they performed the same tasks that had every night until it became almost ritual. Sighing and rubbing a faint sheen of sweat from her brow, Ukyo decided to turn on the radio, after all she would be here for a while. She still had to finish cleaning, and then do the accounts ready to hand to Nabiki to check over. 

_Ah the glamorous life of the Okonomiyaki chef_, she thought drily. 

A small bell chimed as the door opened. 

" I'm sorry were closed for the.... Ranma?" Konastu said politely. " It is good to see you." 

_Ranchan?_

__" Yeah Hi Konsatsu." To her Ranma's voice sounded dull, he was upset. 

Ukyo began to lift her head and comfort him, but she forced herself to face the grill and continue scrubbing. _Your angry with him, remember_ she told herself. Remembering the events of earlier today, specifically how he held and touched that hussy Shampoo. 

She heard the chair scrape as he pulled it out so that he could sit before her at the counter like always. 

" Hiya Ucchan," he greeted, his voice still melancholy. 

" Hey Ranchan," she bit out, still scouring the grill. 

" How was business tonight?" 

" Fine." 

She then realised that she could not avoid looking at him all night, and glanced up at him. 

All traces of anger and any hope she had of seeming upset melted away as she caught sight of his cut and swollen lip. 

" Crap Ranma, what happened to your face?" she asked, her voice rising an octave. 

He just shrugged and turned his head in an effort to hide the wound. 

" Was it Akane again?" 

" Nah." he replied. 

He shrugged again and sighed. Ukyo paused taking in Ranma's posture. His shoulders were drooped, his eyes downcast and gray. He rubbed at the back of his and slowly with his fingers. His head was bowed so that his black bangs hung in despair over his eyes. Even his pigtail seemed to hang limp over his shoulder. It was as if the life had been sucked from his, all the macho pride and cockiness was lost from him. True he had seemed much more humble and quiet the last month or so, but now he seemed downright depressed. Like he had nothing to live for. 

" What's wrong Ranchan?" she asked softly, like she would a child. 

" Nothing," he responded as she knew he would. 

Silence passed for a minute, before a memory came rushing back to her. 

" Hey Ranchan, I just remembered I promised you an " Okonmiyaki for your thoughts" earlier today. How 'bout I cook you it now, while you tell me what's bothering you." 

He smiled weakly. " Sure thing Ucchan," he said. 

She quickly gathered the ingredients and set a perfect circle of batter sizzling on the skillet, not minding that she was about to mess up the grill she had just cleaned. 

She had learnt a while ago through such experiences such as the Love Tunnel incident and the ten-year sauce affair that she could not force Ranma to love her or pressure him into marriage. 

A small part of her even guessed that if their fathers' did not harass them about their engagement so often then Ranma and Akane would be much closer. Of course that was a part of her she did not like to listen to. But she could be his friend, that was something she could give him. And it was something she knew he needed, particularly since Akane never listened and Ryoga wanted to kill him. She would listen however, and forgive him as she knew that he was just a magnet for chaos and sometimes it simply could not be avoided. _That reminds me..._

__Pausing as she flipped the grilled base, she brought her spatula round and slapped Ranma across the face with all her strength. 

" OW," he yelped. " What was that for?" 

" For what you did with Shampoo earlier. You can explain that later, and it** had better**be good Ranchan." 

" I suppose I couldn't avoid it all night," he muttered still rubbing the red spatula print. 

" Well," she said expectantly. 

" Well what?" his said eyes wide. 

" Tell me what's wrong with you already." 

Ranma seemed to crumble into misery again, he gaze dropped to the counter as he said in a hollow tone. 

" I fought Ryoga today." 

" And?" Ukyo said tightly, with a snort. 

" I won." 

" You fight him all the time, and win." Ukyo wished Ranma would get to the point. 

" No not really," he replied slowly, as if forcing the words out. Seeing Ukyo's bemused, blinking face he continued. " Well y'know how bad his sense of direction is. Usually all I have to do is give him dodge, insult him and give him the run around. Then he would turn the corner and 

end up in Zimbabwe, problem solved." 

" Really." 

Ranma sighed and nodded, obviously unmanned by his own confession. 

" Well with Shampoo chasing me, Kuno spouting poetry and Akane malleting me everyday, I don't really have the time to get involved in a duel. Particularly with Ryoga.. It's just easier this way." 

" I suppose you've got a point, but why has beating Ryoga got to do with anything." 

" Everything, coz this time I stood my ground and fought him man to man. And I still won." As he finished he clenched his fists and jaw. 

Ukyo watched his plight and her heart went out to him. She wanted more than anything to help him, but she still had no idea what the idiot was blathering about. 

" Uh, Ranchan isn't beating Ryoga a good thing." 

" It's not just Ryoga, you were there earlier. Mousse couldn't even touch me. It was like fighting a child." Ranma sounded as if he were having something precious ripped from him. " I had provoked him until he was ready to kill me, making sure he gave his all, that he fought at his best. And nothing. It was still too easy." 

" Provoked....So that's why you were flirting with Shampoo." It was hard for Ukyo to keep the relief from her voice. 

" Yeah." 

" But why Ranchan. Why did you want to fight Mousse." 

" Because I'm a martial artist it's who I am." 

That answer came like a slap to Ukyo's face, there was nothing to say to that. She was a martial artist too, she could not dispute him. 

" Um..." she muttered weakly. 

" Ucchan, I'm Ranma Saotome the heir to the Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts. I have lived and breathed fighting since the day I was born. My whole life is given meaning through the Art. But now it's all gone, ever since Jusendo." 

Ukyo repressed a shudder. Ranma had told her about the events at Phoenix Mountain, how he had fought the price who called forth flames. How close he had came to dieing in the battle. How Akane had almost died, and how he had killed for her. That was the part Ukyo hate most, how he had sacrificed it all for Akane. 

" But Ranchan," she said pulling herself together. " You haven't lost it all. You still have your Martial Arts." 

" The Art is pointless without the thrill, without the fight," he spat. 

" Is that what's bothering you. You feel you're not fighting enough." 

" It's not just the fighting, it's the competition. The test." 

" What?" 

" The thrill in the Martial Arts comes from the fight. A true warrior seeks nothing but to perfect his skills in battle, and to face a worthy opponent is a hallowed thing. It's the challenge that drives me, even if my opponent is a thousand times stronger than me to strive through the adversity and find a way to win is the greatest feeling in the world." 

Ukyo stood there with her eyes wide and trembling. She had never seen Ranma bare himself so completely before, it seemed like everything that he was, was open and on display. 

The mask of arrogance and confidence that he wore was gone, and here was the real Ranma Saotome, honest and true. She could feel her heart melting as she looked in to his misty, morning-blue eyes. 

" Does fighting really mean that much to you?" she asked. 

" Ucchan, you're a chef. " he said. " You know what it is like to dedicate your life to something. What if you no longer found any joy in making Okonomiyaki. What if no one wanted any Okonomiyaki, and no matter how much you slaved to create a perfect meal everyone turned away in disgust." 

Ukyo let the idea sink in. Hordes of people coming to her restaurant, trying her wares only to turn their noses up. To be bombarded by criticism as people told her that her food was the worst thing they had ever tasted, that it made them sick and they would rather eat at Akane's. The very though made her shiver. 

" I didn't think it was that bad." she whispered. " Woah!" 

" That's how I feel." 

" But why do you feel that way Ranchan?" she inquired. 

" Because the challenge has gone." he cried. " No matter who I fight, how good they are or how hard they fight. I just don't feel it anymore, they just don't mean anything. They just aint good enough to matter anymore. Mousse couldn't touch me and Kuno, well not much has changed there. But even Ryoga could hardly keep up." he lamented. 

" I still don't get what's so special about Ryoga," said Ukyo. 

Ranma looked around warily, as if looking out for someone eavesdropping. Konatsu was at the far end of the restaurant now, cleaning the windows at the entrance. 

" Hsgud." he mumbled. 

" What?" 

" He's good." 

" What?" she repeated this time from shock. 

" I said he's good and I respect him, all right.!" He yelled. 

" I heard you, but I was just reeling from the trauma of hearing the great Ranma Saotome compliment someone other than himself." 

" Very funny Ucchan," he said drily, but he was now wearing a small smile. " But it's the truth. When you have trained as much as I have, and had as many duels, you learn to recognise skill when you see it. You, Shampoo, Mousse are all great martial artist, and masters of your styles. 

"But Ryoga has almost limitless talent. Out of all my rivals, he is the only one who could keep up with me, he could always match me skill for skill. His brute strength against my speed, his endurance against my technique. Mousse, Kuno and the others they were easy to beat once I had adapted to their styles, but Ryoga always kept me guessing. Fighting each other made us both stronger, his determination to " make me pay for his suffering" allowed him to push his limits and become a greater martial artist, as did my resolve not to loose. Are fights taught us new techniques, when I learnt the Amiguriken he mastered the Bakusai Tenketsu to defeat me. When he discovered the Shi Shi Hokodan, I founded the Mouko Takabisha for the same reason. And using those techniques he was a tough and as deadly as anyone I ever faced. But that's over now, Ryoga is still a master of the Art, but he's just no challenge anymore." Ranma finished in low tones, like a man who had nothing left. 

" I never imagined you felt that way, Ranchan." Ukyo said in a straggled whisper, shocked at Ranma's honesty. 

" Yeah...well." he said, his eyes low and his face flushed slightly. 

" So what changed, why is there no competition in your life anymore?" 

" I have been racking my brains trying to work that out." he said tightly. 

" Any luck?" 

" I think it has to do, with the core of martial arts training." 

" Huh!?" she said wittily, her face full of confusion. Ranma looked at her and sighed. 

" A martial artists strength flows from the people he faces, from the fights he has. By fighting Mousse, Herb, Ryu Kumon my skills have grown just as I said they had from facing Ryoga. But none of those fought Saffron." Ranma's hands balled into fists and his teeth clenched from the memory. " The man was a God Ukyo, or as close to one as anybody can get. He even survived being sliced into ribbons. But I beat him, and it changed me. He was going to kill us, Akane, Mousse, Ryoga, me, all of us. And he could of, with a mere gesture. But I beat him, I fought and strived and won. And somehow founding that will to survive that fight, gave me new strength, pushed me beyond my limits so that except for maybe the old freak and the ghoul, nobody in Nerima can beat me." 

" I don't know what to say Ranchan. You've told me your problem but I just can't see what I can do to help you." Ukyo said 

" You listened Ucchan," he said with a heart-melting smile that turned made Ukyo grin dreamily. " That was enough." 

AN- Well what do you ppl Think. I'm not quite happy with the story as I would like but I would still love your opinions. Oh and no this is not a R/U fic. Romance is not really on the agenda for the story although, I will include some in later chapters but It could be with anyone and any of the fiances. I have nothing against either and no preffered matchup, although I do think there are too many Akane fics. I'm trying to tell a story about martial arts and honour, so it will mostly be action. But anyway give your comments, criticism and idea. 

Cheers 

Beer-monster 


	2. Fallen Master

**_HONOUR AND PRIDE_**

**_By Beer-Monster._**

**Chapter Two: Fallen Master. **

****

****With a full stomach, Ranma made his way back to the dojo via the Tokyo rooftops, bounding effortlessly from house to house. The sun had long since set, and the lights of the city sparkled and shimmered in ways that rivaled the stars above. The moon cast it silvery glow on the city, straining through the ambiently lit sky, to glimmer across the satin of Ranma's shirt as he flipped off the top of a building. Swinging from a lamp post to slow his decent in dropped nimbly to the pavement. 

He had landed in the alley behind the dojo. Stretching lethargically he dusted himself off and began walking around to the street. whistling tunelessly to himself. Then he heard a sound that send shivers down his spine, and cold sweat began to bead on his forehead. 

_Mreow!_

__Slowly, with frightened, jarring movements he turned his head to the source of the sound. 

In the shadows between the trash can, a pair of yellow eyes shone. The two slitted, vertical pupils 

filled Ranma with a cold, clinging dread, which only swelled as the feline approached him on dark paws. 

" C...c... CAT!" He screamed, flailing his arms in terror. 

" Mew." the cat said as shocked by his reaction. 

" GAAAAH! He turned and fled leaping, in a panicked jump over the fence before him. 

Landing in a roll in the Tendo garden, he dashed towards the shogi doors. 

His ailurophobia increased one-thousand fold, driving his heart rate skyrocketing as a a small, wiry body shot from the shadows and grasped onto him, hanging from his shirt. 

" YAAAH! GERROFFAME." he yelped beating the form from him. 

He spun and began to resume his bolt for the house. 

" R...Ranma?" it was a small voice, weak and rasping. 

Cautiously Ranma looked down, and in the light of the moon he could see a gnarled hand groping out of the shadows. Relieved that it was not a cat, he knelt squinting to view the figure in the darkness. Then the voice spoke again, his laboured pants. 

" Ranma, my boy....is that you?" 

" Old Freak?" the boy asked tentatively. 

As his eyes grew used to the darkness, more of Happosai's face was revealed. His profile was swollen and covered in lumps, his skin seemed charred. There were stains of dirt and dried blood caked in his mustache and wisps of hair. 

" Ranma. I can't move...Help me." 

Ranma watched as the crooked, old man stretched out a hand towards him, probing the darkness for the youth. He knew that he should just let the old pervert lie there, let him rot. He would be doing himself and all of Nerima a favour. No more groping, no more early morning bucket of water, no more being chased by stampeding mobs of angry girls chasing him after Happosai throws him a bag of gym shorts. 

But another part of him knew that was wrong. Ironically this part took the form of a handsome, middle-aged women with a warm smile and a long bundle on her back. The woman spoke of honor, and his heart swelled. There were some things a warrior just had to do. 

Gently, almost hesitantly he gathered the diminutive figure in his arms, lifting him up and cradling him to his chest as he stood. 

" Don't worry old freak, I'll get you inside," he whispered gently and made his way into the house. 

" Ranma welcome back," Kasumi greeted warmly. " What's that you're carryi...Oh my!." 

Ranma reflexively looked down at the bundle he was carrying, and was shocked breathless himself. In the light, Happosai's form was fully visible. His face was covered in bruises. Blue and purple lumps swirled over his cheeks and swollen lips. Dried blood made ugly, red-brown smears 

around cuts where his skin seemed to have been scraped off. His clothes were torn and burnt. His breath was laboured, his lungs rasped as he sucked in air. 

" I found him like this in the garden," he said slowly, stupid. 

" Tell me later Ranma," Kasumi ordered. It was in her same, sweet voice cut it was still an order. " Quickly get him into the living room, on the couch." she then left, sliding open the door and gliding into the next room. 

Ranma nodded, and followed her. Carrying him through the dining room and into the lounge where the family sat watching some corny soap opera. 

" Akane could you please get off the couch." Kasumi asked. 

The short-haired girl glanced up at her sister bemused, then to Ranma where she scowled. 

" Why should I move for that womanizing jerk," she spat. 

" It's not for Ranma, now please move." 

" Not for Ranma?" It was then that Akane, noticed the small man nestled in Ranma arms, their eyes widened as she leapt from her seat. 

" Happosai!' she yelped. 

The room's other three occupants simultaneously spun their heads to face Ranma and his burden. Soun and Genma both jumped to their feet. The elder Saotome's face was twisted in a mix of shock and anger. Soun predictably burst in to tears. 

" Master," he cried. 

" What did you do to the Master, boy." Genma yelled. 

" I ain't done nothin'." Ranma shouted in reply., as he lay the ancient pervert on the now vacant couch. 

" He looks terrible'" Akane said, stating the obvious. 

" Who could do this to Happosai?" Nabiki wondered aloud in a calculating tone. 

_Good question_, he agreed silently. He knelt by the old man, grabbing pillows from the tatami covered floor and piled them beneath Happosai's bald head. He had received and inflicted enough bruises, to know that the ones that now covered the depraved master's face were inflicted by fists. Fists that were used with the precise timings, power and placement of a great martial artist. 

_But who could have done it,_ Ranma contemplated. _Even I can't touch the old git, so how could anyone do this._

__From some unknown place, Soun had pulled out a large chest, made from shining steel with it's perimeter locked by large rivets. A rattling sound also brought his attention back to the couch, where his father was binding the beaten, old man in iron chains from which lead weights and giant padlocks hung. He then attempted to load the old man into the metal box, which Ranma now noticed was labeled, the words " To Tierra Del Fuego," written in hastily, scrawled romanji. 

Grunting in disgust Ranma shoved his foot into Genma's face , and extracted Happosai from his chains, returning him to the sofa gently. 

" How dare you boy!?" the elder Saotome shouted at the younger. 

" Shove it old man," the boy replied before dousing his father with the contents of a nearby bucket. 

[ Happosai is a menace] was written on a sign in the fat panda's hand. [ We must rid the world of his evil.] 

" Your father is right Ranma," Soun said in a sagely voice. " To deal with monsters such as him, is a martial artist sworn duty." 

" Is that so?" Ranma asked with a quirked eyebrow. " Well perhaps the rules were changed and nobody told me, because I'm certain it is also a martial artists duty to give aid to those who need it." His voice was bone dry. 

[ We must get rid of the Master and his foul ways] Genma flipped his sign over. [ Honour demands it] 

" Honour demands we beat up and express mail a bruised and crippled old man?" 

" But Ranma..." 

" Soun..." the whispered and straggled sound of his own name interrupted Tendo's argument. 

" ...Genma?" 

Soun moved closer and knelt at Happosai's side, leaning closer to his master. Genma lumbered nearer as well. 

" We are here Master," the mustached man said. 

[ Yes. We are here] the panda signed. 

" Come...COUGH...closer my students. I...I have one..PANT.. last task for you." 

" Yes Master." 

The two men leaned closer, Genma's bulk casting a great shadow over his teachers frail, and wrinkled body. Ranma could see Happosai's thin, cracked lips move but could not here what was said. Finally the two men pulled back,. 

" Yes Master." 

[ Of course Master] 

The pair looked at each and nodded. Then suddenly, and with a speed that belied his fat, and furry body, Genma leaped forward. Swerving around his son to grasp his arms, and hold them fast behind his back. Ranma jaw dropped, to stunned at the sudden action to struggle as Soun spun and threw a wave of cold water on him. 

His body shifted, becoming smaller curvier, his hair brightening from jet black to fiery red. His muscles shrank, the hard flesh fading to be replaced with sculpted softness. The bones warped inside his body, his arms and legs shortening, the shoulders become less broad as his hips swelled into womanly curves. 

" What the hell are you doing," she screeched as the pitch of her voice rose even as she spoke. 

With a burst of renewed vigour Happosai bolted gleefully from his prone position, and latched on to Ranma's newly endowed chest. His tiny hands worked as he squeezed the soft flesh and nuzzled into her cleavage. 

" Aaargh get off me you perverted troll," she yelped, wrenching her arms free of her fathers grip and hammering her fist onto Happosai bald skull, knocking him from her breasts and to the floor. 

" How dare you do that," she raged. " After I dragged your pulverised carcass out of the cold night, you repay me with a grope." 

She rose her fist above her head, ready to deal another blow, but stopped dumbly as Happosai dropped to his knees and brought his head to the floor, bowing deeply to the dripping girl. Ranma's anger evapourated in the face of shock. 

" I'm sorry Ranma. Please forgive me." the kneeling old man said humbly. 

Ranma let his hand drop unused back to her side as her eyes widened. Had she really just heard Happosai apologize?_ He must be planning something._ She wanted to reach out and grab the filthy, martial artists shirt and question him. 

" What?" was all he could manage. 

" I'm sorry," Happosai repeated. " I needed to do that to recover enough strength to tell you my story." 

" What story." Akane asked. "And who did this to you." 

" That will be explained in the story Akane my sweet." 

Akane grimaced at being called that by the pervert. 

" If we're are going to here this tale, perhaps I should make some tea?" Kasumi said with a smile, the usual sweetness empty from it. " Would you like some tea Happosai?" 

The old man smiled and nodded. Kasumi offered it to the others who all accepted accept Nabiki and Akane, who had not yet stopped staring at Happosai, both suspicious about this sudden change in behaviour, as Ranma was. Kasumi prepared the tea, swiftly bringing in a kettle as well as the tray of cups and teapots, which she gave to Ranma. She upended the steaming contents upon herself, his body morphing back to his male form. Happosai pouted at seeing this but hid it at a vicious glare from Akane. 

" So." Ranma said to the now sitting dwarf-man." Talk." 

" My tale begins at the docks." 

" The docks?" Nabiki repeated incredulously. 

" That's what I said. This all happened while you young whippersnappers were off gallivanting in China. I had just been off doing the noble work of liberating panties for my collection, and was being chased by their owners who seemed rather angry. Finding myself at the docks, I took shelter in the hold of a small frater. It must have been a gift from the gods, as the hold was filled with sake and wine. After sampling the wares I wisely decided to nap, to conserve my strength." 

:" Nap? You mean you got drunk and passed out." Akane's voice dripped with contempt. 

" Akane sweety," the old man said as he turned to the girl with big, shiny eyes. " please don't interrupt Grampa Happi while he's telling a story." His voice was sickly sweet, enough to cause a cavity. Akane started in shock. 

" Now then where was I." Happosai continued. " So I had fallen asleep in the hold. Unfortunately as I slumbered, the crew had sealed the hold and set sail. When I awoke and managed to break out of the hold we were in China." 

" China?" everyone asked at once. 

" Yes, I ended up in a small Cantonese port. Well I thought to myself, since I was there, I'd do some sight seeing, get some souvenirs. But alas, for me the Chinese are so boring. Despite all the silk in the country, there was not a single pair of silky panties, not a single thong or teddy. 

It was hell." 

" Wait a minute." Nabiki broke in. " I don't buy that. I mean Shampoo's Chinese and I bet she has a frilly little number or two." 

" Actually Shampoo doesn't wear panties." Ranma said absently, his mind too busy on wondering when Happosai would get to the point to realise what he was saying. 

Open mouth, insert foot. 

" YOU'VE BEEN LOOKING UP SHAMPOO'S SKIRT." Akane screamed, whipping out her mallet. " RANMA YOU PERVERT!" 

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! SPLAT! 

Akane put away her giant hammer and angrily turned away from her fiancé, folding her arms and turning up her nose. Ranma groaned from his position as a pulverised smear on the floor. His arms and legs protruding at awkward angles. 

Happosai cleared his throat loudly. " Now perhaps I can continue my story if their are no more interruptions. Silence was his reply other than a muffled moan from Ranma. 

" During my travels I came to a small town, nestled in the forests of Fujian province. In this town was a small Buddhist temple. I figured while I was there, I could do with a bit of praying. You know repent my sins." 

" You pray? And I'm the pope," Ranma said dryly. 

" You doubt my word Ranma. I am actually a rather pious man," the old man replied stuffily. 

" Yeah, to the god of panties." 

" That's not the point, now do you want to hear the rest of this story or not?" 

Ranma remained silent, and motioned for Happosai to continue with a slight nod. 

" As I was saying. I entered the temple and began to search for the abbot, to hear my sins. However I found no-one, but I did come across a table laden with fruits, nuts and pieces of meat. 

I figured that it was alms, to feed the poor of the town. Well after wandering through China, I was a very poor sight. And rather hungry, so I tucked in." 

" Why does that seem like a bad idea?" Akane asked drily. 

" Well no sooner had I began eating when I was attacked by some young rapscallion. He claimed to be the Master of the temples own sacred martial arts and accused me of stealing from the temple. I tried to explain my innocence, but the cad would have none of it. He kept on attacking me and I was forced to flee, so as not to damage the temple and incur bad luck. But the scoundrel followed me, he chased me through China and then followed me back to Japan." 

" I lay low for a while, hiding in a loft above the girls locker room at Furinkan. Fo..." 

" WHAT." Akane interrupted with angry scream. " YOU MEAN YOU'VE BEEN HIDING OUT AND SPYING ON US GIRLS FOR WHO KNOWS HOW LONG." 

" That really isn't nice Happi," Kasumi chided. " But it would explain why we haven't seen you around for a while." 

" Yes," Ranma agreed while trying to restrain Akane from pounding the beaten, old pervert. 

" Anyway," Happosai continued. " After a few days I relaxed and thought I'd lost him. But it turns out he was simply biding his time, waiting for me to emerge. He caught me at an abandoned parking lot not far from here. And then...and then..." 

Happosai's voice trembled and his eyes dropped as he shivered. Ranma thought he saw 

tears start to fall from the master's withered eye. His hands wringed at each other nervously as he shuddered, his lip trembling as he slowly drew breath. 

" What did he do?" Ranma asked, leaning closer to the old man, curious as to what horrors this warrior put him through. 

" He..he.." Happosai stuttered. 

" Yes?" 

" He..he...burnt my panties." 

If Ranma's eyes could pop from their sockets they would have. Instead they widened as his brows shot up. His jaw hung loose and worked soundlessly. _His panties? _He snapped from his frozen, shocked state and lunged across the floor to seize the ancient perverts torn gi. 

" Panties," he yelled into the bruised, wrinkled face as he yanked it closer. 

" My entire collection...SNIFF...silky ones, cotton ones. My bras and pantyhose too." Happosai collapsed into a fresh storm of weeping, and Ranma let go of the old man's gi and let the diminutive master drop to the floor. 

" You're pathetic," Ranma said coldly. 

" But my pretties," Happosai whined weakly. 

" Now Happosai, calm down and tell us what happened next." Kasumi said calmly. 

" Okay," he said choking down a few last sobs. " Well as I watched my silky darlings burn, I was overcome with a violent rage, I had to have my vengeance. So I challenged him to a duel, there and then determined to make him suffer." His voice had taken on an harsh, angry tone. 

" You lost," Ranma said. It was not a question, just a statement. 

Happosai dropped his withered eyes and hung his head, still possessing enough of a martial artist's pride to feel ashamed at his defeat. " Yes." He said after a while, a hesitant word. 

[ But you are the master of Anything-Goes!] Genma protested with his signs. [ How could you lose]. 

_That's what I'd like to know_, Ranma thought glumly. 

" He used some sort of technique, very sneaky but powerful, almost like some sort of witchcraft." 

" Of course," Soun exclaimed. " It has to be magic, that is the only way that you could have lost." He almost sounded convinced. 

" Magic," Akane snorted. " Blaming your defeat on sorcery, you sound like Kuno." 

" Be that as it may," Happosai said. " It does not matter what technique he used, it is up to you Ranma, to fight him." 

" May I ask why?," Ranma spat. 

" For the School, boy. You are still the heir to the Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts." Happosai responded sagely. 

" This has to do with your panties old man, not the School." Ranma said dismissively." It does, boy. A great deal." Happosai smiled darkly, it looked even more sinister on his bruised and swollen lips and with the way his wrinkled skin folded over his gaunt cheeks. 

Ranma's eyes narrowed at the pervert's face but he motioned for him to continue. 

" After he had beaten me, as I lay amongst the broken tarmac and melted gravel, he spoke to me taunted me. He smirked at down at me as he spoke his insults. He said that the Anything-Goes School was a mockery of martial arts, nothing but a pathetic collection of tricks and craven techniques." 

The Tendo girls gasped, and Akane squeezed her eyes shut as if to hide from the shame. To insult a school was a grievous dishonour, worse than the loss of the battle. 

" Pathetic techniques!" Akane heard someone growl, the voice was so soft, like the whisper of a sword drawn from its scabbard. So cold was that voice, that it took Akane a moment to realise that it had been Ranma who spoke. Opening her eyes she turned to her fiancé. 

The room had grown silent, shrouded in harsh, moving shadows cast by the blue light which rippled and swarmed around Ranma. His aura had ignited about him in rage, and his eyes echoed its fire with a icy, frozen glimmer. His hands balled into white-knuckled fists, nails plunging into his own flesh unfelt. His lips drew back as he growled, teeth grinding. 

Akane had only once seen Ranma so consumed with fury, when he fought Saffron. When the blue fires in his eyes had rivaled those summoned by the phoenix prince. But why now, there was no life in danger, no-one to defend. 

" Happosai." The pervert seemed surprised by the sound of his own name, and withdrew slightly from Ranma's cold glare. " Is this man still in Tokyo?" Ranma asked. 

" I...I'm not sure. Maybe." 

Ranma nodded and rose. " If he is I'll find him." 

The shadows faded from the room as Ranma slid out through the shogi doors, walking with a tense grace like a prowling lion. 

" Oh my," Kasumi said hand fluttering to her mouth. " Is Ranma going to fight?." 

" Looks like it," Nabiki responded. " Maybe I should get a betting pool going." 

" I would save your time Nabiki, and pray for luck." Happosai whispered. " He'll need it" 

Akane looked back at the old man. Once again she regarded the bruises and cuts which covered his gnarled features, and the tears and burn in his clothes. She then rose and went slowly followed her fiancé. 

She found him in the small room he shared with his father, sat on the sill by the open window and staring out into the night. The fiery aura had vanished, but the tension remained, his posture taught and quivering like a bow string. She moved beside him, standing by his side and watching him. Moonlight poured in from window, and bathed a face devoid of confidence or cockiness but pure in it's spirit with silvery light. 

Akane's breath caught in her throat, and thought melted from her mind. She could hear her own heart, pounding like a drum as she gazed at him. Butterflies flogged her stomach and her palms felt clammy. _Ranma,_ her mind whispered in awe. 

A lonely dog howled at the moon. 

" You've come to try and stop me haven't you?" Ranma asked, he did not look at her but continued staring into the night. 

" Ranma...I...You..." 

" I have to fight Akane," he said interrupting her fumble for words. 

" Why?" 

" I am the heir," he said it as if the most simple thing in the world, as if he was telling someone that the sky was blue. 

" This is the old freak's fight, not yours," she countered. 

Ranma sighed. " As much as I hate it, the 'old freak' is still the Grandmaster of Anything-Goes. As a member of the School, I must reclaim our honour." 

Akane sniffed pointedly. " Hiding behind honour, you sound like your father. 

Ranma finally turned to her, hurt and anger dancing in his eyes. 

" I am _nothing_ like my father." He spat. " I know what honour is." 

" This is about, what Happosai said. About the fighter insulting the School." 

" He called it pathetic." Ranma growled. 

" So?" 

Ranma's eyes widened and he looked at her as if he had never seen her before. 

" Akane," he whispered as if unsure that it was her. " You are as much a part of the School as I am. Does it not make you mad that he insulted us, insulted our Art." 

" Yes it does." She admitted. " But I know they are just words." 

" Words are like swords," he quoted. " They wound." 

Akane's face softened, she put a hand on his shoulder squeezing the tense muscle comfortingly. 

" The School is everything to me Akane, and he insulted it. I spent my life training in the Anything-Goes Style, mastering it, improving it. To insult the style is to say that everything I have done and was taught to believe in is bullshit. To say my life is a waste of time, time that could have been spent with my mother." Ranma's voice had trailed away to a whisper and his head hung low, black bangs hiding his eyes. 

" Oh Ranma," Akane breathed, a catch in her voice. " I didn't know." 

" No you didn't," he said coldly. " You never ask, you never know. All you do is judge 

me, but you never understood me." 

Turning is back on her, he swung out of the window on to the roof. 

Finding herself standing dumbly, alone in his room she turned as walked to her own. Collapsing onto her plush bed, her raven hear spreading on the pillow. 

_You never understood me_, Ranma's voice accused her again. 

She never noticed her eyes begin to water as her attention was fixed on the pain in her heart. 

* * * 

Ranma shifted and squirmed on the roof, easing the sharpness of the roof tiles that were digging between his shoulder blades. 

_Perhaps I shouldn't have said that to Akane_. he mused, and not for the first time since he had come to know the short-haired girl. 

He had hurt her again. The pain that he had seen in her eyes and the pangs of guilt in his chest told him that. He was always hurting her, and this was worse than a casual insult about her tomboy-nature or her bust size. _Words are like swords,_ he thought. That was what he had said to her, and he had chosen the wrong words. Always choosing the wrong words, especially where Akane was concerned. He didn't want to hurt her, not her. 

Akane cared for him, he knew that. She called him a pervert, a jerk but he could see through that. It was in her eyes, everything a person hid was written in their eyes. He cared for her too, so much that it scared him. He could no longer hide that either, not after Jusendo. He felt something for her, something deep that made him want to protect her. That was why he fought for her, why he strived and took on Saffron tooth and nail. Whether this feeling was love, friendship or something else he did not know. 

And there were the others. 

Ukyo, Shampoo, Kodachi. He shivered involuntarily at the thought of the crazed gymnast, the less he thought about her the better. The other two, were a more complex matter. 

He cared for them too. He could not bear it if he lost the light they brought to his life. 

Even when he was with Akane, laughing with her his mind would often wander to thoughts of Ukyo and Shampoo. Shampoo with her breathtaking beauty and Ukyo's humour and friendship. 

He could not have all three, but he could not choose one either. 

_When did life get so confusing,_ he thought bitterly, gathering himself up to leave to roof. 

AN- As I said b4 this is not a romance fic, but I do believe Ranma feels something for akane so I couldnt just ignore it. Whether it is love or friendship, or whether it will work out for them. Well I'm not saying Hahahaha. Please tell me what you think, R&R as always. 


	3. Mantis Hand

**_HONOUR AND PRIDE._**

**_By Beer-Monster._**

**Chapter Three: Mantis Hand. **

Teahouses have always claimed an important, yet undervalued place in the history of Japan. During the era known as Sengoku Jidai, or the age of warring states, teahouses were a hub of exchanged data. Merchants, emissaries and spies bought and bartered information about troop movement, alliances, war plans, political movements. However blood was never spilt. There was an unsaid treaty signed when you entered, an oath of peace. Throats were cut and wars fought beyond the doors, but no violence was done beneath the teahouses roof. 

Even after the first Tokugawa brought his iron peace to the land, and through the years until black ships came, the peace lasted. Bound inexplicably to the aura of the buildings. It attracted many old samurai, seeking to test their arts and earn honour for the school they had founded, making challenges and preparing for duels. The fame of this accord spread over the world and soon foreign martial artist came to sample this phenomenon. 

And so here he was, sitting quietly in a steel-framed chair, sipping slowly from his cup of green, jasmine tea and savouring the atmosphere. His acute senses could feel the latent harmony in the air, the aura of the room was like an open book to him, he read it perfectly as he could with every other being around him. The hallowed peace still pulsed through the walls, even though the surrounding had changed. The futons had been replaced with metal worked chairs, padded cushions and tables. The fragrant tea had given way to expressos, cappucinos and lattés and the kimono were gone as the waitresses moved from tables to table in snug, black skirts and smart, white blouses. Even the people were different, when once teahouses were a place for civilised conversation and quiet contemplation, the customers of this coffee shop yelled and bustled, crowding around their tables and talking in excited, frenzied voices. But the aura never lied. 

" Excuse me," a voice took his attention away from his musings, he turned and addressed the speaker. 

" Yes, can I help?" He said, cursing the sound of his own accent. 

" Would you mind if it sit here?" the stranger asked, gesturing to the chair opposite where he was sitting. 

He looked the newcomer over, appraisingly. He was young and wore Chinese garb, a jade-green shirt of satin with yellow ties and loose black pants, tied at the ankles. The tilt of his blue-grey eyes showed that he was not Chinese. His brow was feathered by dark locks and a thin braid hung over his shoulder, swaying gently as he moved. 

The clothes were probably worn for freedom of movement in combat he guessed. There was no questioning that the youth was a martial artist. He carried himself with trained grace, his posture relaxed but alert and steady, his movements fluid, he seemed to melt from one step to the next. His eyes never left the man sat before him yet, he seemed to be watching the whole room all at once, his senses focused for the slightest hint of danger. 

_His senses are highly attuned for one so young, he must get attacked out of the blue often._

__" I would be honored," the man said after making his judgment. 

The pigtailed stranger sat in the seat he had earlier indicated, never once taking his eyes away. 

" Would like some tea, Mr..." 

" Saotome. Ranma Saotome. And yes I would, please." 

He reached across the table and gently lifted the plain, white teapot. In his other hand he 

placed a small cup before the stranger, he was about to pour when the boy spoke again. 

" Ranma Saotome of the Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts." 

He nearly dropped the teapot. _So that's what this is all about._

__" I see," was all he said. 

Ranma noticed the change in the man's demeanor, the slight widening of his almond shaped eyes and the lowering of his shaven brows. 

" So you know why I am here?" He asked. 

" Yes," the man replied solemnly. 

" Do you accept?" 

" I accept your challenge." The man said again in a dull, somber tone. " But I had hoped that this mess was over with. I would never have guessed that Happosai would have students much less, one who would come for revenge." 

Ranma snorted. " I'm not doing this for that old freak." 

The man blinked. " Then why?" He asked. 

" For what you said about my Art." 

" Oh." 

A long silence stretched between them, so thick that it hung over them like a fog. The silence was like a shield that blocked out the murmuring conversation of the others in the coffee house. Finally it was shattered when Ranma spoke. 

" May I ask your name?" He asked with the politeness that was traditional when martial artists met in such an event. 

" I am called Lo Fu. Wong Lo Fu of the Sho Rin temple" 

" Loaf," Ranma said bemused, _What is it with these weird Chinese names? _He wondered. 

Loaf winced at the mispronunciation of his name. 

" So" Ranma began. " Is there a place I could call upon you?" 

The Chinese man paused in thought, idly scratching at his chin as he considered Ranma's inquiry. 

" My hotel is not suitable for such things, and I do not know this city or this area very well." Loaf said after a while. " Is there anywhere you can suggest?" 

" There is a park nearby, there are several playing fields that would suffice." Ranma proposed. " Would you like to meet there later, or would you prefer we go now?" 

" Now." Loaf replied immediately. " I would rather have this unpleasantness finished with." 

" As you wish," Ranma said as he rose from his seat. " It is a shame that we have to do this. I was hoping that I wouldn't like you." 

Loaf just nodded, throwing a few bills on the table and rising to follow Ranma out of the building. 

They entered the river of striding people that typically occupied most Tokyo streets. Joining a throng of people that were determinately moving in the desired direction they began weaving their way down the street, slipping past slow-moving geriatrics and avoiding the highly dangerous power-walking business men. 

" So what's your problem with the old freak," Ranma asked. " Why come all the way to Japan chasing after a guy just for eating some food." 

Loaf started, missing a step and almost falling on his nose. Catching himself he scrabbled to regain his balance, arms flailing before him, and then blushed as he sheepishly looked around for anyone who saw his slip. 

" Is that what he told you," he spluttered, his voice hard. 

" Yeah, why?" Ranma asked bemused. All he got was a low growl in reply. 

" So what did he do really?" Ranma sighed, mentally kicking himself for believing Happosai's lies. 

" He stole my sisters panties." 

" Hm," Ranma grunted, as if it was obvious. 

" While she was wearing them." 

" Ah," Ranma's eyes widened slightly. 

" In front of our parent's" 

" Oh." 

" And thirty-six Buddhist monks." 

" Uh Oh." 

Loaf just nodded solemnly, his mouth working silently. 

" Well I can understand why you wanted some payback." Ranma conceded after a moment. " I've had more than my share of lechery from that old pervert." The last statement was more addressed to the air than to Loaf, but the Chinaman nodded. 

" Be that as it may," Ranma sighed as he noticed the steel gates, mounted in gray stone that opened out into the park. " You still insulted the Art I have spent my life mastering." 

Loaf simply nodded as he stared at his feet, failing to meet Ranma's eyes. 

It was a beautiful day to be in the park. The sun shone gently through the trees casting flitting shadows on the grass as the light breeze shook the boughs. Spring had been captured in the park, shown in the bright hues of the daffodils and the flowering of the cherry blossom trees. 

Many who were not working enjoyed the day, couples strolled down the winding wood chipped paths, hand in hand. Old people sat in the many low benches reading papers or simply enjoying the scenery. Kids ran and laughed as they played with Frisbees and balls. There were others who were diligently jogging, and a few who threw sticks and stones to send their dogs chasing after. 

The two fighters stopped in a open field, the chalk lines in the grass and goal post indicating that this was quite often used for sports such as soccer or rugby. It was a quite place, tucked into a far corner, nestled by a harmonious copse of willow trees and sakura blossom. The ironic hand of fate being showing its work, since both were symbols of Japanese Martial arts and the warrior's code. 

Ranma strode away determination etched onto his face as he gave about ten yards of space, before turning to face his opponent. 

" Ready?," he asked, cracking his knuckles. 

Loaf, clenched his jaw and his expression became hard like granite. Rotating his head, he worked the kinks out of his neck, emitting a faint series of pops as the bones ground together. Satisfied he nodded to the Japanese fighter, signaling his readiness and dropped into a fighting stance. 

Ranma narrowed his eyes as he took in Loaf's bizarre posture. His body was held low on bent knees, his weight rooted in his back leg as his front was cocked before him, the toes barely resting on the grass. His back was hunched but just slightly, shoulders bowed but relaxed, his torso trained like a coiled spring. His arms were held curved and close to his body, moving warily in small circles protecting his chest and neck. The hands were strangest of all, they formed a hooked shapes, fingers turned in towards his fist with his thumb pressed tightly along side, his index fingers protruded like small blades. Loaf's face was still as solid and impassive as stone. 

Steeling himself with characteristic determination Ranma assumed his own stance, a neutral position traditional in many Japanese styles. His posture was held high and natural, his feet shoulder with apart and just slightly bent, as if taking a large step. He held his back straight and his arms up, his lead outstretched an open, palm turned to present the edge of his hand like sword. His back hand was balled into a loose fist, cocked back and held over his breast like the hammer of a gun, his forearm shielding his ribs. 

The two combatants regarded each other in silence, their keen gazes scanning the other's form, looking for any hint of weakness, any sign of an opening in the others defense. Silence hung over the field, but for the rustle of the grass in the wind. 

A dog barked, the sound ringing through the air. To Ranma it was like a starter pistol. 

He blitzed forwards, rear hand drawing back in preparation to strike. Loaf's eyes narrowed as he noticed the subtle motion. Ranma twisted as he began to swing his fist. His opponent's arm moved upwards ready to intercept. 

Ranma smirked. 

His fist abruptly changed in its course, dropping to meet his other hand as it slid forward beneath Loaf's guard. The two hands thrust forwards as one, fingers fanned out. A faint blue light sprouted from the base of the palms were the two arms met. 

" MOUKO TAKABISHA." Ranma yelled as he unleashed his pride from his center. 

A blaze of blue light shot forth, forming an incandescent fist of pure power which caught the surprised Chinaman square in the chest. The force of the blast, lifted him from his feet and sent him hurtling away. He landed with a grunt and a slight skid, ten paces from where the pigtailed boy now stood. 

" Owch," he muttered as he pushed himself back onto his feet. The stone of his face had cracked enough to allow a small smile to show. 

" That was good," he said. " I wasn't expecting you to use a Ki attack so early in the game." 

" I like to keep my opponent's on their toes," Ranma replied grinning. 

Loaf nodded as this then looked at Ranma through the corner of his eyes, his brow quirked curiously. 

" That was a Pathos attack was it not?" He asked. 

" Huh," Ranma responded intelligently. 

" I'm sorry my Japanese is not so good." Loaf said sheepishly. " A meant that it was an attack that uses a strong emotion to summon a large amount of Ki." 

" Yes," Ranma agreed with furrowed brows. " It uses Pride." 

" I have encountered such an attack before," Loaf confessed. " So depressing It was called the Roaring Lion Bullet, or something like that." 

The smile dropped from Ranma's face as if it were made of lead. His brows lowered warily. _Crap, He knows about the Shi Shi Hokodan! _He thought. _That's not good. _He covered his concern by dropping back into his fighting stance. 

His opponent did the same, his face returning to stony indifference. 

The two fighter approached each other cautiously, each moving slowly towards the other, inch by inch. They resumed their probing stares, appraising each other critically. 

Then Loaf attacked, darting at Ranma who tensed defensively. 

The black-clad Chinese lashed out with his lead hand in a quick jab towards Ranma's face. The youth turned his body, twisting out of the fists path. Loaf changed his hand's motion, swinging a back fist where Ranma had dodged to. His opponent ducked, weaving beneath the attack, and striking Loaf in the gut with a fast punch. 

The Chinaman barely grunted, and shot his back hand forward in a powerful cross. Ranma blocked and was pressed back as Loaf followed with a series of punches at his midsection, sliding away as he batted the fists aside desperately. Changing the pace Loaf unleashed a right cross, which Ranma slid beneath, only to feel a knee crash into his jaw. 

He was knocked from his feet by the force of the blow, landing hard on his back. _That hurt,_ was the only thought he gave himself time for as he flipped back onto his feet and leaped to the assault. 

Taking to the air, he launched a flying, front kick which his opponent slid around. Barely letting his foot touch the floor his bounced back up and swung his rear foot around in a crescent aimed for the head. Loaf jumped back and watched as Ranma's foot whirled through the space he had just occupied. The youth gave him no time to counter as he stomped his foot out in a side kick which would have broken the Chinaman's knee if he had not moved the limb. Ranma cocked the same foot back before flicking it out again, this time at Loaf's ribs. 

Loaf blocked the kick with his forearm as he sidestepped. He then intercepted the young fighters back fist, and responded by thrusting his elbow out at Ranma's nose. The Japanese boy blocked barely before countering. 

Punched were exchanged in the afternoon sun, fist's flying with deadly speed and power, only to be knocked aside inches from their target. Then Loaf's stepped to Ranma's left, and grabbed both of the pigtailed boys arms twisting them against each other. 

_His grip!?_ Ranma thought as he winced. Loaf fingers were like steel vices, crushing his bones in their grip. Then his arms were pushed savagely against his chest, knocking him off balance. A black clad leg then lashed out, first catching him on the knee cap shocking the joint, then at the ankle sweeping his legs from under him. 

Ranma fell to the floor with a jarring impact that drove the breath from his lungs. Gasping as his eyes widened, he noticed that he had seized Loaf's dark sleeves in his fist and yanked on the material sharply. The black-clad man was pulled forwards so that he stumbled and bent over Ranma's prone form. The youth then kicked his legs up, panting them in Loaf's stomach. Jerking the Chinaman forwards his thrust out his legs, launching his opponent into the air. 

Loaf flipped forwards before landed heavily on his back. Ranma heard him gasp as the air was stole from his own lungs. 

Both fighters lay there as they painfully caught their breath. Then with muted groans and muffled curses they rolled over and pushed themselves up. 

" I wasn't expecting this," Loaf said as he reached his knees, his voice haggered. 

" Huh," Ranma panted as he looked across at his enemy. 

" I expected you to jump around and throw bombs, you know hide and run like that old freak." 

Ranma chuckled. " Yeah well, call me a traditionalist but I believe that fighting should involve some actual combat." 

" Well then," Loaf said standing straight. " Perhaps I should put it up notch, as you say." 

Ranma smirked. " Great." He yelled before running forwards at his foe. 

The Chinaman let him come, not even moving. Then as Ranma tensed, ready to attack, he shot forwards. He jumped forth and thrust his foot into the boy's chest, performing a vicious side kick that sent Ranma hurtling back. 

He hit the floor and skidded back, the grass and dirt smearing his clothes. _Idiot_, he berated himself for being caught by such a simple maneuver. With a determined growl he rushed to his feet. Pushing his shoulders back he stretched his chest, stretching out the pain which lanced across his ribs and muscles. 

Slipping back into his stance he approached his opponent slowly and more cautiously. As he came closer his eyes widened. 

A bright green aura surrounded the Chinese man. The air around him crackled as sparks of green energy streaked before him. Tiny, fluorescent flames flickered along his form like a coat of power, occasionally flaring brightly. The grass at his feet flattened beneath an unseen weight, cherry-blossom petals swirled and spiraled around him as his thick tail of hair flapped wildly on waves of power. 

_It's just a mind trick_, Ranma told himself confidently._ He's trying to intimidate you like the old freak does with his aura. Don't let him._ Ranma kept on closing in, now circling his opponent warily. 

Loaf took the initiative and attacked again, a lead punch shot straight for Ranma's head. The Japanese fighter, slipped outside of the attack and unleashed a powerful rear hand blow to his opponent's gut. Loaf staggered back and Ranma seized the moment to whip his lead fist into the Chinaman's face. 

Relentlessly he pressed the attack, unleashing a furious barrage of punches to the stomach, before following with a viscous hook which smacked into Loaf's cheek, the wet slap of bone and flesh crunching echoing in the air. 

Loaf stumbled back, out of the range of Ranma's fist. Lowering his stance and raising his hooked hands, he worked his mouth, sucking at the bruised cheek for a moment before turning his face as spitting. His saliva red with the tinge of his own blood. 

Ranma charged again, opening with a snapping kick to Loaf's face. Loaf spun away from the attack, sliding around to face the boy's back. Ranma twisted and swung out with the back of his fist. Loaf blocked and counter in the same motion, his left hand jamming his attack while his right smashed into Ranma's face. 

He reeled back, staggering as his eyes watered. He was barely aware that his nose was bleeding, as he fumbled to keep up his guard. Shaking his head to clear his blurred vision, and blinking back tears, he raised one hand to wipe the blood from his face. 

Loaf sprung forwards, reaping his hooked hand across in a slashing strike. Ranma twisted, barely avoiding the attack as he saw the Chinaman's fist fly forward. He jumped back, pulling himself out of reach. 

He grunted, as _something _ploughed into his chest. He gasped in pain and backpedalled rapidly, desperately scrabbling to stay on his feet. He down at his breast, where he could feel the pain throb and pulse. 

" _He can't of hit me, his arms ant that long. _Ranma told himself as he remembered dodging the attack. 

A gust of wind chilled him and he could hear the flapping of silk. His shirt was torn. The green satin had been sliced through as cleanly, as if a sword had slashed through the cloth. He was also aware of a stinging sensation , as if his skin were being pricked by a thousand needles. Looking through the rip, he noticed the blood welling in a shallow cut along his ribs. 

" _What!" _He screamed mentally. " _Nothing hit me._" 

He glanced back at Loaf, who was standing poised in his stance, clawed hands circling in front of him. He was still bathed in the fiery, green aura, the energy running over his body and through his finger. 

_The aura,_ _it's solid!_ Ranma realised but was unable to question this eventuality as his opponent lunged at him, his aura leaving a trail of green light in its wake. 

__Loaf punched, his hooked fists stabbing like knives. Ranma wove the outside and broughthis hand across in an arc, chopping the edge of his hand into the dark-clothed man's throat. Loaf gargled as his throat muscles constricted. Thrusting his arms, beneath his opponent's he planted two fist into Loaf's chest before spreading his hands. He swept open Loaf's guard, opening the man's chest to attack. 

" KACHU TENSHIN AMIGURIKEN," Ranma screamed as he unleashed the power of the chestnut fits, his hands a blur as he pounded into Loaf. 

The bombardment of punches knocked the Chinese Martial artist from his feet, sending him flying back. He landed on he chest with a grunt. Ranma remained poised, fist clenched before him. Loaf pushed himself up, spitting a thin stream of blood into the grass. 

" I think you broke a rib," he said to the Japanese boy as he climbed to his feet. 

Ranma now frightened by Loaf's skills, summoned up all his determination and charged. Loaf was ready this time. He swiveled out of the path of Ranma's punch, grabbing the boy's left wrist in his pincer. 

Ranma's eyes widened as his arm was seized and growled as he swung his other fist desperately. Loaf shifted to the side and caught the punch with his other hand. 

With both of Ranma's hands in his grasp, he smirked. This fight was his. 

He crushed Ranma's bones in his hooked fingers. The green flames twisted, and writhed around his hands, growing solid as they strengthened Loaf's grip. Ranma could feel his bones bending and twisting under the pressure as the sound of snapping tendon and marrow ground in his ears. 

Ranma screamed, his nerves seeming to pop and burst in his arms. 

Immobilised by pain and Loaf's iron hands, Ranma was defenseless against the onslaught of kicks that had began to batter his legs. The Chinaman's feet slammed against Ranma's ankles, shins, and knees. The pigtailed boy grunted with each kick, and struggled helpless in Loaf's grip 

A sickening, wet snap rang in Ranma's ears. The sound disgusted him and he wondered where it had come from. 

Pain answered him. He yelled at the top of his voice as he fell to the dirt, his broken leg buckling beneath him. His shin seemed consumed with fire as pain shot through his leg like a lance. But somewhere through the haze of agony that clouded his mind, he was aware of a voice. 

" I'm sorry Ranma," it said in labored Japanese. " The match is over." 

Somehow those words awoke a fire in Ranma. The flames grew, forging his will into steel. Tough, strong, relentless. Like a smith crafts a fine sword, the flames formed Ranma's pride into a blade, and honed a determined edge. 

" No," he whispered at first, then louder. " No." 

He slowly and with the last ounce of his strength pushed himself up. Forcing his body to stand on his uninjured leg, fighting the pain, the dizziness to face his enemy on his feet. 

" I WILL NOT LOSE." he cried. 

Charging off of his one leg, he stuck out with his fist, punching desperately for the black-clad figure before him. 

" I'm sorry Ranma," the voice said again. 

Green light swallowed everything. 

AN- Well folks, that was the big action scene you've been craving. It was actually my first fight scene that I had ever written, being primarialy a WAFF writer. But I am a martail artist, I study Shokukai Karate, and I tried to put across a real sense of a martial artists duel, not just relying on a few punches and loads of Ki balls. So how did I do, was it a good fight scene or should I stick to WAFF. 


	4. Lavender Heart

**_HONOUR AND PRIDE_**

**_By Beer-Monster. _**

****

**Chapter Four: Lavender Heart. **

The bristles scraped against the red, clay tiles with each sweep of the broom. The sound caressed the air like a whisper before it was drowned in the noises of the city. The afternoon sun 

hung low in the sky, its light casting harsh, fluttering shadows as it struck the red, patterned flags hanging over the door. 

Xian Pu sang quietly to herself as she swept the entrance way to the Cat Cafe. The lunch shift had ended and now the restaurant was being prepared for the evening. Mu Tsu was inside wiping and resetting the tables, while Ku Lun prepared the soups, sauces and broth that would be needed tonight. 

Her song was a gentle melody, the soft Madarin lyrics flowing from her. It reminded her of her home, of the mountains and the rivers of China. She hated the city, all concrete, steel and glass. There was no beauty, no soul in the city. Nothing which could reflect the wonder of nature, it was all cold and heartless. 

But the song kept the memory of home alive. Conjuring up an image of the the great mountains of Tsing Hai, rising into the dawn sky as the purple light of the new day's sun sparkled at their fog bound peaks. 

" Excuse me do you know if their is a hospital or doctor's office nearby. " 

The image burst like a bubble and Xian Pu sighed. 

" Doctor Tofu is..." She began, then she paused as the words of the question echoed through her mind. They had not been spoken in Japanese. 

" You speak Chinese?" She exclaimed as she whirled to face the man. 

He was tall, his face gaunt and hawkish, with narrows eyes and thin lips. His ebony hair was pulled back into a long tail which hung to his waist, he forehead and brow were clean shaven in a style that she recognised as one common in old China. He was dressed in clothing from a similar era, a button up tunic and pants that were tied at the ankles, all jet black. His posture was slightly hunched, which Xian Pu guessed was due to the large burden he seemed to have cradled in his arms. 

" Yes, I am from Fu Jian Province," he said in response to her question. 

Xian Pu nodded, still unused to the conversation as her Grandmother had told her to always speak Japanese, to help her improve. 

" Er Miss..." The man prompted, forcing her attention back to the matter at hand. " Is there a Doctor's office of Hospital nearby." 

" Yes. Doctor Tofu's practice is not far from here. I can show you the way if you..." 

Xian Pu's voice trailed off as her eye's took in the burden that the man carried. The broom 

Dropped from her suddenly numb fingers and clattered against the floor. She did not notice as all of heart and soul were locked upon the unconscious man before her, and the pigtail that hung lifelessly over the strangers arm. 

" RANMA," she screamed, leaping forward so fast that the stranger could only blink. She seized hold of Ranma's arm and wrestled him from the bemused man. 

" Ranma," she whispered in a broken voice, as she lay the incapacitated fighter on the ground, his head nestled in her lap and her arms wrapped around him protectively. 

" Ai Ren," she gasped holding back tears as she shook him gently, hoping that he would open his eyes, hoping that he would get up, hoping that her greatest fear was not coming true. 

" Ai Ren?" the stranger muttered. " He's your husband? " 

The sound of the man's voice awoke something within Xian Pu. She turned at him, and snarled, growling in a catlike hiss. 

" What did you do to my beloved?" She spat. " WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HUSBAND?   
" Shampoo what are you shouting at child." Came a rasping voice. 

A shriveled, dwarfish figure came out from the restaurant. Hopping towards them on a cane that was almost as twisted and gnarled as she was. A shock of white, brittle hair wove in the wind from her parchment-like scalp. From beneath skin that, hung from her face like wrinkled sacks, shone a pair of gray eyes that gleamed with wisdom and a vibrance that belied her withered frame. Those eyes passed from the stranger, to the girl, to the unconscious boy. 

Finally she said, " Bring him inside." Then she spun on her staff and hopped back into the restaurant. 

The black-clad man bent to pick up Ranma's prone form, but Xian Pu slapped his hands away contemptuously. She slung her fiancé's arm over her shoulder and bore his weight herself, dragging him through the restaurant and laying him on a sofa in the small living room behind the kitchen. 

" SAOTOME," Mu Tsu exclaimed, busting into the room to check on his rival through his thick glasses. His curious glance turned into a bitter glare as he watched Xian Pu dote over Ranma, shaking him and gently stroking his face, her eyes were wide with open concern and rippled with tears she was too proud to shed. 

" What happened? " he asked. 

" Yes, that is what I would also like to know." Ku Lun said from her perch on her cane. 

" My name is Lo Fu," the man began. " I came to Japan, to take care of some personal business. The man this business involved, was an acquaintance of Ranma's." 

" You mean you came chasing after Happosai. " Ku Lun said, it was not a question. 

Lo Fu's eye widened then narrowed. 

" How did you know?" he asked. 

" Three hundred years on this earth does not make a person stupid." She said smugly. 

Lo Fu remained silent, staring sullenly at his feet. 

" So you fought with him in a duel? " Mu Tsu asked. His mind panicked at the thought that this man could defeat Ranma with seemingly no more damage than a few bruises ands cut, whereas he could not even touch the Japanese youth. 

" That's blatantly obvious boy," Ku Lun snapped irritably. " The thing this young man needs to explain is _why _? " 

Under the old woman's stern gaze, Lo Fu told his story. 

Xian Pu barely heard the conversation. She was aware when Mu Tsu spoke, when Lo Fu or her Grandmother did. She learned that the fight had been a duel, that it had stemmed from a grudge with Happosai and and insult about the Anything-Goes school. But other than that, the world was a blur. Nothing else existed to her but Ranma. Her eyes never left his face, still handsome despite the bruised and swollen cheeks, her hands never left his hair as her fingers gently smoothed brushed his black bangs from his eyes. 

" So ," Ku Lun said after Lo Fu finished his tale. " You have managed to defeat both Happy and my Son-in-law. You must have exceptional skill, beyond any in our tribe." 

" Tribe? " Lo Fu repeated. " You are Amazons?" 

" Yes, I am Ku Lun Matriarch of The Joketsuzoku. You have met my heir Xian Pu, Ranma wife by tribal law, and her companion Mu Tsu. The question is who are you, really?" 

Lo Fu made his face stone and returned Ku Lun's fierce gaze with a proud stare. 

" I am Lo Fu of the Sho Rin temple, Grandmaster of Tong Long Chuan. " 

For the first time in over a century Ku Lun was speechless, her jaw dropped before she could control it as her eyes bogged in their wrinkled sockets. The silence in the room was broken by the sound of Mu Tsu's glasses falling from his similarly shocked eyes. Xian Pu cradled Ranma in her arms tightly as she stared at the figure fearfully. 

Lo Fu sighed, " I can see that Mr Saotome is in good hands. I will take my leave. Take care of him. 

With that the dark-clothed master turned and left the room. No one followed or even made a move. When the sound of the restaurant door swinging shut reached them, Ku Lun turned to regard the prone form of her son-in-law and student. 

_The Mantis fist? _She thought in awe. _Ranma what have you got yourself into this time._

__

__AN- Well nothing here that I havent said. I know most people think Shampoo has no real feelings for Ranma, but I think That anyone who sticks to him as stubbornly as she does must be feeling more than tribal obligation. Also from a cultural perspective, Shampoos' an amazon and so is surrounded be meek men who consider themselves inferior, so I think that she is bound to be attracted to Ranma's strong-will and battle prowess as it is so different from what she is used to, that attraction would make it easy for her to fall for him. Well tell me if you disagre but dont be to stubborn about it, oh and please R&R. 


	5. Broken Pride

**_HONOUR AND PRIDE_**

**__**

**_By Beer-monster_**

**__**

**__**Book I: The Mantis Saga 

**__**

**_Chapter Five: Broken Pride_**

**__**

**__**Awareness returned to him, slowly. Consciousness came crawling slowly through him. Hearing was regained first. He could here singing. It was a soft, gentle voice, barely more than a whisper as one might use in lullaby. The words seemed blurred, spoken in short but soft, rounded syllables. 

" ...ai ren xin. Chen ru hai. Dai wo chu, ba tao..." 

He stopped listening and consentrated on the feeling that was slowly returning to his body. He felt a touch, moving across his face and through his hair. The motion was tender, mild like a caress, slowly stroking his skin. 

Smell was next. A mixture of delicate, floral scents tickled his nostrils. Some sunk past his fogged, blurry mind and he recognised them. Jasmine, lavender, cherry-blossom. The aromas were familiar, tugging at some hazy part of his memory. But in some ways they were new, as if he were smelling them for the first time. 

Then came taste, his mouth was filled with a harsh, metallic tang. A bitter taste, coppery and sour trembled on his tongue, he felt his mouth twist in disgust at the flavour that was so different from the flowery fragrance that surrounded him. 

Light. It shone pulsed before him, waxing and waning as his vision fought to focus itself. 

Then his sight returned with a flash, the blur suddenly clearing before him to render everything in crystal clarity. He was staring at a ceiling, familiar in that he had seen thousands like it, unfamilar in that he had never seen this one. It was plain and white, the paint chipped and faded in places, and a dark crack zig-zagging its way across the corner where it met the wall, directly above him. 

The thing on his face had stopped moving, and the singing had ceased. Out of trained, instictive reflex his arm snapped up to grab the touch from his face, and hold it before him so that he could see it. 

It was a hand, its size and slender fingers with painted nails, marked it's owner as female. Slowly he followed the arms with his eyes, past the lean, feminine wrist as it disappeared into a sleaves of red silk, embroidered with yellow thorns. His eyes continued their scan, up to the shoulder upon which fell waves of rich, lavender hair. And then he knew. 

" Shampoo?" He said, looking at the beautiful face framed by purple hair and the bright, azure eyes that stared back at him. 

" Ranma," she said with a small, happy smile. 

Her arms opened and she slid towards him, ready to catch him in her embrace. He brought his arm up and pushed it out stiffly, holding her back. 

" What am I doing here Shampoo?" He asked sternly. " What did you do to..." 

Then it all came flooding back to him, as if a dam had burst in his head, unleashing the images of events. He remembered Happosai, bruised and broken. He remembered challenging Loaf, taking him to the park and fighting. Then he recalled a flash of brilliant, green light. Then nothing. 

" I lost," he said after a while. 

" Yes," Shampoo replied although it was not really a question. 

He slumped back on the bed bitterly, the sudden motion sent blasts of pain shooting down his left arm and right leg. He gasped and clenched his teeth against the violent sensation. A sick, snapping sound echoed in his mind and he remembered just how badly he had lost. 

" I tell Great-Grandmother you is awake," Shampoo said and left the room. 

He laid his head back and closed his eyes, screwing them up tightly as if unwilling to face the world. He growled quietly, his rage directed inwardly, berating himself. He had lost, and this time there were no excuses, he had been defeated totally. This had not been a practice match, he had not been stuck in his girl form or facing a fighter with three hundred years more experience than him. Loaf had been a normal man, who had fought him hand to hand. And he had lost. His heart sunk from his chest as if it weighed a thousand tons. 

" Hello son-in-law," greeted a rasping voice he knew all too well. " How do you feel." 

" Hn," he grunted in reply. 

" Well I see you remember how you came to be injured,' Cologne said as she hopped closer, perching on her cane at his bedside. " And I trust that you will be treating your loss with a immature fury of depression. Sometimes you can be as melodramatic as that lost boy Ranma." 

Ranma scowled at her comparison, he was nothing like Ryoga, the man who would fall into mourning if his shoe laces broke. 

" Don't sulk boy, it's rude and I'm sure Shampoo doesn't find it attractive because I certainly don't." 

Ranma's face darkened more, and he shot the old woman a sharp glare. " I don't see why you would care if Shampoo found me attractive," he spat his tone dripping with acid. " I would have though you would be marrying Shampoo off to Loaf, since he obviously the better specimen for your tribe." 

Cologne frowned at his words, her face wrinkling even more. " Don't take that tone with me boy, " she snapped. " You would not even be half the martial artist your are now without my help and training." 

" Well I guess you wasted your time," Ranma said sullenly. 

For an instant rage passed over the ancient matriarch's face, but then her expression softened. She looked at Ranma with a gentle gaze and a warm almost motherly smile. " No son-in-law. The time I spent training you was worth every second. And I'm sure you will agree with me one day." 

Ranma's eyes narrowed as he gave the Amazon a side-long glance, he was confused by her words and unsure of their meaning. 

" You are not a failure Ranma," Cologne soothed. " You were just not ready for this fight." 

Ranma was unconvinced. " Why not. That man could not have been much older than twenty-five. He does not a two-hundred year head start like you and the old freak. I should have won." 

" You could not have won Ranma," Cologne sighed. " He may not have my years, but the style that he practices gives him knowledge that I can barely comprehend, and cannot ever hope to aquire." 

It was all Ranma could do to hide his shock, there were things that Cologne did not know, and she was admitting them. He forced his face to remain impassive and continued giving her his suspicious glare. " I'm listening," he said. 

The old warrioress shifted on her cane, finding a more comfortable perch, and cleared her throat for what he assumed was dramatic effect. 

" The man you fought was the Grandmaster of a style of Kung Fu called Tong Long Chuan, in Japanese it would be known as Tourou-Ken." 

" The Praying Mantis Fist," Ranma said. He thought back to the fight and Loaf's stance. He remebered the bizarre hook shape form of his hands, and recognised them as Mantis claws. 

" I recall seeing the style in China a few times, it was a long time ago when me and Pop had began our trip, I really should have recognised it from his stance." Ranma agreed, giving himself a small mental beration for not noticing. " However such a style would not explain his strength, or his power." 

" That is because you have only seen the basic sects of the style, such as the Northern style or the Seven Stars school. Loaf as Grandmaster of the Sho Rin Style of Praying Mantis, is in command of the ultimate evolution of his Martial Art. A style that completly embodies the arts founding philosophy and principles to a level unattainable by most fighters." 

" Huh?" Was all that Ranma could intelligently mutter. 

Cologne sighed, this was going nowhere. " Let me start at the beginning," she said. 

" You are familiar with the legend of the Shaolin temple?" She asked Ranma. 

" Of course," he replied. " It was a Bhuddist temple in Hunan province China. It was virtually the birth place of Martial arts, all styles of Kung Fu and through them Japanese, Korean and Okinawan arts are said to be descended from Shaolin styles." 

" Very good son-in-law," Cologne said complimenting his knowledge. " Well Praying Mantis originated as one of those Shaolin styles. It began with a senior monk named Wong Long, a man who was very talented in Kung Fu. However his skills were surpassed by his elder monastery brother, Feng. In many way Wong Long was like you son-in-law, proud of his abilities and very determined. He practised diligently and his regime was tough. However he could not defeat Feng, no matter how hard he tried." 

Ranma nodded in understanding, it was true he was proud of his abilities and often had gone to insane lengths to be the best. That description also fit Mousse, and Ryoga in particular. 

" Unlike you however the rivalry between Wong Long and Feng produced no animosity, in fact they were very close friends. Aned I'm fairly sure that neither of them attacked the other out of the blue screaming ' Prepare to Die.'" Cologne chuckled at her own joke, the sound was a like a scraping echoing through a cave. Ranma scowled. _Glad she finds my life so amusing,_ he thought drily. 

" Anyway," Cologne said after her laughter had passed. " A tradition at Shaolin was for senior monks to travel China for a period of three years, to view the lives of men, meditate and preach the scriptures. Feng thus decided to leave, and bid Wong Long goodbye. He promised that when he returned they would have a match, to determine whether Wong Long had improved. Determined to train hard and defeat his brother, Wong Long began to practice harder. 

" Wong Long was in the habit of meditating, reading and practising his Kung Fu, in a forest that surrounded the temple. Once, while studying the Sutra he heard a violent rustling from a nearby bush. Being curious, he investigated and found two insects fighting. Wong Long watched in amazement as a small praying mantis defeated and devoured a much larger ciccada. Surprised by what he saw, Wong Long started to tease the mantis with a long stalk of grass, paying close attention to how it defended itself with its pincers, grasping hold of the grass as it dodged and countered. After careful study, Wong Long condensed the insect's moves into human motion forming claws from his hands. Mixing what he had learnt with principle of his own Kung Fu style, he created a new and highly effective style that he called Shaolin Praying Mantis Fist. 

With this he was easily able to defeat Feng on his return. " 

" What's your point Cologne?" Ranma asked irritably. " There are thousands of style based upon the motion of animals: Tiger Claw, Eagle Claw, White Crane, Dragon, Snake. What so special about a little bug?" 

" Well boy, if you would shut up and let me finish, you might learn something." 

Ranma pouted but kept quite and listened all the same. 

" The difference is that after the destruction of original Shaolin temple by the Machu's. A terrible time for China, I remember it well. The Shaolin styles spread across China and the world, and new temples were founded. One such temple, the Sho Rin of Fujian province, included several masters of Tong Long Chuan in its priests. Here they continued to develop the style, and used it to protect themselves against bandits and communist soldiers. It was through this use in battle " this trial by fire," that the Sho Rin Masters were able to ascend to the next level of their art and evolve it." 

" Yes, but you still haven't explained what this evolution means old bat," Ranma complained. 

Cologne leapt off her staff, whacked her offensive pupil over the head with it, and landed back on before she had even dropped an inch. " I told you to listen, and who are you calling and old bat!?" She snapped. 

" Anyway as I was saying before that rude interruption, the true strength of the Praying mantis style is to adopt the Mantis mindset. In battle a master of Tourou-Ken can adopt the ferocity and prowess of the patron animal." 

" How does that help," Ranma asked. 

" The mantis is in many ways a violent animal, it actually likes to fight and in mating season they frequently duel amongst themselves, in that way they are similar to Japanese fighting fish. By using such Mantis characteristics the Martial artist can strengthen his own fighting spirit, enhancing it through the Praying Mantis' urge to fight. And since a persons' battle aura is the outward manifestation of their spirit, they produce a powerful and potent energy." 

Ranma's mind was suddenly blasted by a ominious memory. An image of Loaf standing there, his body surrounded by a blazing aura that coated him like green flames. 

" Further more," Cologne continued. " A Mantis stylist can manipulate the aura he produces, making it solid and using it to strengthen his own body, or even strike with it." 

Ranma remember the green fire raging around Loaf's fingers as he crushed the bones his arms, and the times were he was sent reeling and was cut by what seemed to be nothing. 

" I see," he said after a while, knowing now that he faced a truly formidable technique. " What a terrible power." 

" It is," Cologne agreed. 

" But Granny," Ranma said using the term he called her when he wanted something. " Couldn't you teach me, train me so that I could have that ability." 

The wise matriarch shook her head, " You haven't listened, have you? I told you I can barely comprehend this talent never mind use it. Besides it's too dangerous. Why do you think that none of the animal styles you mentioned already have not imitated the techniques. While it is true that they may not have discovered it, to fuse your mind with an animal carries great risk. Many who have tried have been taken over by the animal nature and have gone mad, I once encountered such a man and it took twelve of our best warriors to kill him in the end. Such a person has to be put down, to prevent harm to others." 

" But," Ranma whined, desperation evident in his voice. " Surely there is something you can teach me, something that will let me beat him." 

" I'm sorry Ranma," she said and her downcast eyes told him that she truly was. " There is no techniques I could teach you to deal with such a ability, especially with your limited experience. Besides Loaf has gone, I asked Mousse to keep an eye on him, he returned to China this morning." 

" But..." Ranma said again though no thoughts came. 

" No Ranma, there is nothing you or I can do." 

Anger filled him then, at Cologne at Loaf but mostly at himself. With pain lancing through his injured leg and arms he rolled over to face the wall, turning his back on the old woman. " Fine," he growled. " If you won't help me then go to hell." 

He heard her sigh in dissapointment. " I'm sorry you feel that way Ranma." 

There was a percusive thumping noise as she hopped away, " It does not change the fact that you must except, son-in-law. You have lost this one." 

The door closed behind her and Ranma knew that he truly had lost. Sleep was along time coming. 

**IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT**

****

****Ranma woke from his uneasy, restless sleep feeling more fatigued than he had before the nap. His body was hot, the sheets were tangled about his limbs and stickily soaked in sweat. His eyes stung from his tiredness, and he could still taste the blood in his mouth, that was now parched. He licked lips that were dry and cracked, and swallowed painfully. 

_Fuck this, _he thought angrily. _I'm getting out of here._

__He braced his weight on his elbows and rolled on to his side. But his motion was answered by pain that exploded in his injured arm and leg. Lights flashed behind his eyes, and he groaned before he could stop himself. 

There was the sound of flurried movement, and then there were two hands on his shoulders, forcefully pushing him down on to the bed. Lacking the strength to resist he fell back onto the pillow. 

" Ranma should not be moving. Ranma should rest." Came a voice from the darkness. 

" Shampoo?" He asked. 

One of the hands left him and he could here the sound of it probing the gloom. There was a loud click, and the room was flooded with light, forcing Ranma to close his eyes against the brightness. After a moment he opened them again, squinting as he became used to the glow. When he vision had adjusted sufficiently, he could see Shampoo clearly. Her lavender hair was mussed and ragged and her eyes weary as she looked down at him from the edge of the bed where she sat, fingers still coiled around the string of the bedside lamp that was emmiting the light in the room. 

" What are you doing here?," he asked, his voice angry and his tone accusatory. After all the times she had jumped in to the bath with him dressed in her nothing but her skin, he did not quite trust her in the same room while he slept. 

" You is in bed, where is Shampoo supposed to sleep?" She retorted stiffly. 

For the first time Ranma took a good look at his surroundings. The room was sparsely furnished, other the bed there was a wardrobe, a embroidered silk sleeve poking from in between the doors, and a table with a draw the contents of which Ranma could only embarrassingly guess. The floor was covered in a rough blue carpet, a few silk shirts, dresses and bras scattered haphazardly across its surface, along with several books with titles such as " Beginners Japanese," and " Basic Kanji." The walls were plain and white, the only decoration were a few posters, photographs and a rack upon which hung two heavy bonborri with painted mace heads. 

" This is your room?" he asked. 

" Yes." 

" I'm sorry I took up your bed," he said sheepishly. 

" Is okay, Ranma is hurt need bed more than Shampoo. Only problem is that chair make Shampoo's back hurt from sleeping." She said gesturing to the corner where a small wooden chair sat, a thin, blue blanket hung over it's back. Evidently she had slept there. 

" I'm surprised you didn't climb into bed with me, but I should have trusted you more. Thanks. " he said chucking nervously, scratching his head with his unhurt arm. 

Shampoo's gaze dropped as her head hung slightly and a faint blush coloured her cheeks. 

" Shampoo wanted to, but Great-Grandmother say that Shampoo do more hurt to Ranma if sleep with Ranma." She admitted. 

" Oh," 

A nervous silence stretched out between them. Ranma, unwilling to meet Shampoo's inquisitive stare began glancing around the room again. As his gaze passed over the walls, something caught his eye. 

" Are those pictures of me?" he asked, squinting to get a better view of the photos. 

Shampoo started in shock and blushed furiously. He eyes dropped from Ranma and instead fixed on her lap where her index fingers tapped together in her lap. 

" Yes," she said after a while. " Shampoo buy from Mercenary girl." 

From his limited view from the bed he could barely make out some of the pictures and the familar figure depicted in them. They were all pictures of his male form, some of him in various states of undress, making him blush and wonder when Nabiki took them. There was one of him in the early morning, stretching his arms as his shirt hung unbuttoned and open. Another seemed taken from a vantage point outside the Tendo's bathroom window. It feature him clutching a towel around his waist, while water dripped from his bangs and his pigtail and his muscles glistened moistly in the light. 

Strangely the majority of the photos featured him in Martial Arts scenarios. Some were of him during his fights, his opponent out of frame but for a glimpse of a wooden sword or fist, the images capturing his proud smile, and intense eyes as he practised his craft. Others feature him practicing his kata, in the dojo or by the Koi pond, a gentle look of concentration upon his face while the sheen of sweat coated his bare chest. 

He was drawn to one image in particular. It was portrait rendered in black and white, blown up to poster size. The image had captured his bare torso in its frame, his hands held in the classical knife hand posture, his eyes intent on the imaginary opponent before him. The setting sun could be seen in the back ground, casting shadows over his face. The he noticed that the image, lacked the laminate shine of a photograph or its harsh lines. Looking closely at the picture, he could see two characters scrawled at the bottom corner of the paper, a signature. 

" Is that a drawing?" he asked, amazed that someone had captured his likeness and his passion so accurately and so sincerely. 

" Yes," Shampoo replied. " Is in charcoal." 

" Did you draw it Shampoo?" 

" Yes, many months ago, before we go to Jusendo." 

" It's very good." That was the truth, the drawing was brilliantly portrayed, each stroke seemed to be made with limitless passion. 

" Thank you," she replied. 

" I never knew you could draw." 

" You never ask Shampoo," she said harshly. " But I not do it often, is not considered appropriate for Amazon warrior." 

" Oh," Ranma said. " But still it is very good. But..." He trailed off. 

" But what..." 

" Why do the pictures have me fighting." 

In the dull lamp light, Ranma could see Shampoo's face light up, the blood suffusing her cheeks producing a cute blush. Ranma's mind spun, he had never expected to see the extroverted, and free-loving Amazon blush, but she had being doing a lot of it tonight. 

" You're blushing." 

With a surprised squeak she buried her face in her hands, hidng from Ranma's eyes. 

" No, is not. Amazons not blush." She protested. 

Ranma smiled teasingly. " Well it looked like a blush to me." 

" No is not." 

He chuckled, " Never thought I would see the girl who glomps me in the bath blush," he said as if to himself, but adressing it to her. 

" Is your fault," she accused, her voice muffled by her hands. " Is not easy to speak feelings, much easier just to act and glomp. Is amazon way." 

" Huh," Ranma grunted in confusion. 

" Amazon's taught to act on emotions, not waste time talking about them. Is shameful. By asking Shampoo, you is embarrassing Shampoo." 

" Sorry." 

" Is no matter, Shampoo try acting on feelings before, Ranma run away. Maybe time for talking." She inhaled deeply and he could feel her body tense, steeling herself. " Shampoo like see Ranma fight. It excite Shampoo." 

Ranma blinked, and muttered something unintelligable. 

" Amazon's taught to respect strength and skill. Ranma have much of both. Men in village meak, wimpy like Mousse they have no spirit. Mousse do what ever Shampoo say, he always grovel to Shampoo. Shampoo not respect that. But Ranma not like that, Ranma strong, free. Ranma is like name, Wild Horse. You cannot be tamed, and when you fight that is easy to see. Ranma have such skill that Shampoo never see in anyone but elders, but Ranma is young and wild unlike elder. Ranma not bound by law or tradition, he have strength Shampoo wish to have. Wish children to have. When Ranma fight, Shampoo see that strength and is what Shampoo like Ranma for. Shampoo love to watch Ranma fight, it make heart beat faster and body feel warm." 

Ranma's mind leaped in right there, the modest and shy part of him didn't like where this was going. It particularly did not like the gleam that was growing in her eyes, a gleam that could only be described as hunger, and it shone when she looked at him. 

" Er... Um... Shampoo... You shouldn't...we can't...what about...perverted...what." He spluttered, he blushed from head to toe and waved his good arm frantically. 

" You see, Ranma get embarrassed. Shampoo wrong again." She said dejectedly. 

" No, Shampoo its not that," he sighed, willpower once again crumbling under a woman's pout. " But your wrong, I'm not strong I am weak, my skill is nothing." 

" What Ranma talking," Shampoo said, pulling back to regard Ranma with wide, confused eyes. 

" I'm not strong Shampoo, I'm not the best anymore. I suppose things have changed." 

" Why that, Ranma still strong." 

" No I'm not I lost," 

" So, you lose. Everybody lose sometime. You still strong like Shampoo say." 

" No your wrong. The art I have dedicated my life to has been proven to be weak and inferior. My loss had taken my honour from me, without it I am worthless. I'm not the man I was. Not the man you thought I was." 

Shampoo pulled away, her eyes dropping beneath sunken lids and she sighed sadly, she looked as if something within her had died. 

" No," she said. She stood from the bed and turned away, presenting her back to Ranma, unwilling to face him. " You not man Shampoo thought." Her tone was low, barely more than a bereft whisper. 

Her words made Ranma gulp, his throat tighter and depression welling painfully in then pit of his stomach. _Even Shampoo sees that I am a loser _he thought lowly. 

" Ranma should go back to sleep," he heard Shampoo say. 

Rolling over he attempted to follow her suggestion, but sleep never came. After Shampoo had put out the light, he was still awake, frowning at the wall before him. 

**THE NEXT DAY.**

****

****" Is there a particular reason why you are just watching your ramen congeal?" Cologne asked drily**.**

****The sun streamed in through the curtains that twisted and fluttered in the breeze coming from the open window. The light did not reach the bed where Ranma lay, the shadows still blanketing him in gloom. Cologne thought it ironic how the room reflected the youth's dark mood, shadows lining his face as he stared glumly at the bowl of noodles that sat on the tray-table positioned across his lap. 

" I know my cooking is not quite as good as Shampoo's. But I can still prepare some fried noodles and you still need to eat." 

" Why?" the boy said, the first word he had uttered since she had brought him the food. 

" Because you need to conserve your strength so that you can recover," she replied." Even with that herbal salve I bound into your cast, your bones will still take over two weeks to heal." 

" What strength?" he muttered. 

" Oh," she said tiredly. " We're still on that." 

He murmured something under his breath that she could not make out. 

" Well now I see why Shampoo had been so quiet this morning, it must have been your sunny disposition and good humour." 

Ranma scowled at her from the bed, " You know, that sarcasm of yours get quite irritating after a while." 

" Well I'm not exactly fond of your sullen pouting either boy, " she responded smiling back at him from the chair where she sat, idly spinning her staff in her fingers. 

" I'M NOT POUTING," he yelled back. 

" Would you rather I call it sulking," she said glibly. " What ever word you prefer, you're doing it. It's quite immature." 

" Shut up," he sneered, returning his stare to the cooling ramen. 

In the silence that now hung over the room, Cologne ancient but sensitive ears could detect noises from downstairs in the restaurant.They grew louder, like a storm approaching. She knew the name of this storm though, and it was far more violent than any hurricane. Calmly she looked at her watch, _took them longer than I had thought._

__" I SAID GET OUT OF MY WAY," screamed a voice amidst the commotion, there was the sound of a struggle and the door burst open, flying off of it's hinges. A short-haired girl stood in the splintered frame, quivering with fury. 

" RAAANMAAAA!" Akane shouted, bathed in a red aura. 

Ranma swallowed the lump in his throat, gulping audibly. 

Her shoes thudded against the carpet as she marched across the room, stomping ominously like Nazi's marching into Poland. She loomed over him, scowling. Ranma shrank back into his covers. This wouldn't be good. 

" I can't believe you Ranma," she spat. " I...I mean we worried ourselves sick, when you did not return last night. Instead I find you lounging around in that harlot Shampoo's bed. YOU WOMANISING PERVERT." 

A little of the fight returned to Ranma's guts. He hated being called a pervert. " I'm here because I'm hurt you moron." 

" Don't lie to me Ranma, you're here because you wanted to get jiggy with Shampoo. And to think you said you were fighting a duel." Her tone was loaded with contempt. 

" I was fighting a duel you idiot, that's how I got hurt." He yelled. 

" I did explain that in my phone call," Cologne said wearily from her chair. 

Akane turned towards the old woman and snorted. " Yeah like I'm going to believe that. You must be so happy that Shampoo and Ranma are finally exchanging body fluids. All that's left is to cart him off to China and watch the kids pop out." 

Cologne frowned at the the young woman's words. Both angry and dissapointed, _This girl is even stupider than I took her for._

" I am hurt you stupid tomboy," Ranma said and whipped the blanket off of him, revealing his bandaged leg and arm. 

Akane looked at him, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. Her face flushed, first in embrassment then in anger. " RANMA YOU PERVERT," she screamed, turning her back as her 

face glowed scarlet. 

Ranma's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at her, then down at himself. It slowly sunk in that he was naked beneath the sheets. Yelping and blushing, he hastily grabbed the blanket and covered his crotch. 

Cologne smiled. " Thanks for the show son-in-law, but I fail to see what it accomplishes." 

Ranma blushed deeper and shot a quiet glare at the matriarch before, turning his attention back to the angry girl. 

" I meant the bandages, get your mind out the gutter." He said. 

Akane turned and inspected the white, nylon strips that were bound around his knee and forearm. As she grew closer she noticed a green paste smeared across the skina around the bindings, staining the material. A pungent, foul odour came from the substance and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

" I applied a herbal salve to his wounds, an old amazon recipe." 

" WHAT," Akane cried, surprising Ranma and aking him jump. The movement making him wince in pain. Akane did not notice as she turned to face him with an angry glare. 

" How stupid can one person get," she screamed rhetorically." I can't believe you let her douse you with one of her weird potions." 

Frantically Akane seized Ranma's leg, digging her nails into the bindings and clawing at the bandages and tugging sharply, trying to rip them from him and remove whatever dangerous concoction the wily Amazon had used on Ranma. 

Ranma screamed as his bones were yanked and shifted. He writhed in agony, the searing pain to great from him to stop his willful fiancé Then the pressure stopped and he slumped in his bed, panting wildly through gritted teeth. 

Akane rubbed the shoulder that Cologne had whacked with her staff, flexing the fingers that now seemed numb, a gentle ache pulsing along her nerves like a mild electric current. 

" Ranma has broken his tibia and fibia, and his radius and ulna are badly fractured. The salve will assist his own amazing healing factor, however it will still take at least two weeks for the bones to knit back together." Cologne said. 

Akane scowled at her through narrow eyes. Then her expression softened, she could see sincerity in the old woman's whithered features. 

" You're serious?" 

Cologne nodded. Akane turned back to Ranma whose breathing was slowing down to a regular rhythm. His teeth were still clenched together and he was now sat up, cradeling his abused leg in his good arm. 

" Sorry Ranma," Akane said sheepishly, looking at her feet. 

Ranma muttered smoething beneath his breath before he said. " It's okay Akane, you were just worried." 

" Aiyah," Shampoo's unmistakable voice came floating in through the door from the restaurant. " You no go in Shampoo room, Ranma should no have too much visitors." 

" Let me see my son," Ranma heard his father's voice protest. 

" No, is bad for Ranma." Shampoo replied. 

" Shampoo, dear I must see my son, let us by." This voice was very formal and eloquent. It was also very female. 

Ranma blanched. The colour seemed to drop from his face as he recognised the speaker as the last person he currently wanted to see. _No,_ his panicked mind cried. _She can't see me. Not like this. _He grapped the blankets in a flurry of motion, throwing them over himself. They covered his body up to his chin, and hid the bandages as he had intended. 

He heard approaching footsteps. The loud stomp of his father's lumbering bulk, the near-silent, almost feline pad of Shampoo following behind. And the precise and proper rhythm of his mother's foot falls. He clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to see her when she saw his shame, his defeat, his weakness. 

" Ranma," her voice was soft and concerned, but warm. 

He heard her cross the room, her steps hurried shuffles instead of the prim gait of before. Fingers ran through his bangs, gently stroking his hair in a soothing manner. He forced himself to open his eyes, to look at her. She looked back, her eyes shimmering with concern, blue then grey,changing like the sky. When she saw his eyes open, she smiled warmly, it lit her features that Ranma could see echoes of whenever he looked at the mirror. 

" Ranma, are you all right?" She asked. 

" I'm fine Mom," he replied. 

" Are you hurt? Can I get you aything? Are you comfortable? You look pale? Are you hungry?" 

Ranma smiled as Nodoka began a typical mothers coddling. He reveled in it, relishing what had been missing from his life since before he could remember. 

" I said I'm fine Mom," he weakly and falsely protested. 

His mother looked at him still smiling, and as if reading his insincerity, leaned over and began fluffing the pillow beneath his head, muttering something about a man having to be comfortable when at rest. Ranma did his best to look impatient, and thanked her when she was done. 

" Your welcome," Nodoka said, and smiled at him. 

" Stop pampering the boy Nadoka," griped his father. 

Nadoka rolled her eyes at her husbands comment, but stepped back as he appoached their son. 

" What happened?," Genma asked gruffly. 

Ranma's smile fell from his face, he turned away and stared up at the ceiling, frowning at the cracks in the ceiling instead of his family. 

" I...I lost," he said, barely more than a whisper. 

" WHAT!," his father exploded. 

Ranma did not repeat himself, he knew that Genma had heard his words, and understood the full meaning. He looked at his mother. Nodoka's smile had fallen, but her eyes were still bright with concern and warmth. But there was a sadness there also, a sadness Ranma could not bare to see. He turned back to his father's red and angry face, he was used to seeing dissapointment there. 

" How could you lose boy, did I teach you nothing." 

" Well gee Dad, I would have used your techniques but I didn't think running away or pretending to apologise would have worked in this battle," Ranma responded in acidic tones. 

Genma had just enough shame to blush momentarily, before covering his lapse in red-faced anger. 

" Show some respect brat," his father spat. " Those techniques are part of the Saotome martial arts tradition, I won't have you insulting them." 

" Your father is right Ranma," his mother said tightly. 

Ranma bowed his head and blushed slightly under his mother's criticism, but he still managed to shoot an angry, side-long glare at his father, who had continued his rant. 

" That Chinese cur, must have used some sneaky trick to be able to defeat an Anything-goes stylist. Ranma, you must fight him again and show him what true martial arts is. The school's honour..." 

When Ranma heard that word from Genma's mouth something snapped. He rose his good arm and swung it in a furious, horizontal arc bringing his fist hammering into the wall. The plaster cracked and fell from the crater his hand formed, revealing the bare brick beneath. 

" HONOUR," he screamed. Then dropping his voice to a soft, deadly whisper he spoke glaring at his father. " What would you know of honour? What honour does the school have?" 

His parents, the amzons and Akane stared at him speechless, reduced to open-mouthed gawping at his words. 

" Loaf was right in what he said to Happosai, the Anything-Goes school is a pathetic punch of tricks. But then what else did we expect from a style founded by a panty-stealing dwarf." 

" Ramma listen..." his father tried to interupt but the boy spoke over him. 

" The Hellhound Yell, Fierce Tiger Falling Down Strength and Fast Break the so-called Saotome secret techniques." He gave a bitter bark of a laugh. " What a joke! You speak of sneaky tricks old man, then what are those. What would you know of true martial arts, because our style can hardly be classed as such. Yes maybe I did lose because of tricks and foul play, but only because I used none. For that is what our school amounts to. Hell even the name says it all, _Anything-Goes _which in essence is just a built in excuse for cheating." 

" Ranma" Akane yelled, her tone full of outrage and scandal. " How dare you say that about our school." 

The pig-tailed boys dark gaze slowly moved from the fat, bald man to settle upon the angry girl with the short hair. 

" What would you know Akane?" Ranma taunted. " You call yourself a martial artist, but your only battles have been against a hormonal crowd of perverts and a deluded kendoist. How many duels have you had Akane? How many martial-artist have you faced? You do not even know the full extent of the style, your father was too proud to show his little girl the true tactics of the art, the tricks, the lies. You are barely more than a beginner, and are so naive you cannot 

see the light." 

Akane opened her mouth to say something then stopped, as she closed her lips Ranma thought he saw them tremble. Her eyes shimmered as he looked at him, and he stared back blankly. Then she turned and marched from the room, not looking back. 

Guilt hit him like a knife to the gut, slowly twisting in his stomach and shooting pangs along his spine. He closed his eyes and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. 

" I shouldn't have said that," he whispered. 

" No you shouldn't have," his mother said as she stood. Her face, normally warm and smiling, was now dark like a thunder cloud and marred by a abhoring frown. Her gaze was peircing like a bullet as she glared at him venomously. 

She turned to Genma who was regarding his hands and they fiddled with the belt of his gi, unwilling to look at his son. 

" Come husband we are leaving," 

His father nodded and followed her from the room, but Ranma's eyes were not on him. He watched his mother leave with a heavy ache in his heart. His gaze fixed on the ornate Katana, which normally hung wrapped over her shoulder, was now clasped in her white-knuckled fist. 

AN- Firstly I would like to mention once again that this is not a romance, and I do not plan to match shampoo with Ranma ( not that I wont hahaha) but I did used to write a lot of waff so in the Ranma and Shampoo scene, I just got carried away, sorry if you dont like it. 

Also I hope none disagrees with Ranma rant about the anything-goes style, but remember he is very angry and hurt right now so he is likely to say things without thinking. Also since this story is about honour and the warrior's path, I feel that Ranma should renounce the tricks and sneaky tactics of his style as practised by Genma and discover a more honurable style of fighting. Alsofor those who asked, yes I will be addressing the styles of the Umisen-ken and Yamasen-ken, but not for a while so be patient. 

Oh and a couple of you mentioned my spelling, well the truth is Im a terrible typist and am always pushing the wrong buttons and such, also I am too lazy to proof read usually, I know I am a bad bad person. I did check this chapter but I may have missed some things, Im not perfect y'know. Oh and another thing. I happen to be, probably the only English Ranma fic writer you are likely to hear from, and as I proud Brit we do spell a few things differently eg Honour instead of honor. Not that it matters but ther you go. And I refuse to alter that, as we invented the language in the bloody first place, so nyah nyah. 

The next chapter is in the works and is going to be kind of different, thanks for reading. 

Beer-monster. 

Ps- Yes I know this is a cop out answer about the mantis style. 


	6. Mending Wounds

Honour and Pride 

**_By Beer-Monster_**

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**_Book I: The Mantis Saga._**

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**_Chapter 6: Mending Wounds.._**

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SHAMPOO 

The day was dark. Clouds shrouded the sun from view, making the sky a dull grey and bringing a melancholy gloom inside of the usually vibrant restaurant. Shampoo sighed wistfully, the only sound in the room besides the faint squeaking of the glasses as she polished them. 

She was bored. Very bored, she wanted something to happen, anything. Having lived in Nerima for a year now, she had grown accustomed to the craziness that had become the status quo in these parts, and without such weird events everything became tedious and plain. But with Ranma out of commission the insanity he attracted died down.

Her browed furrowed at the though of the pigtailed martial artist. _Stubborn fool_,

she thought angrily. Even in the depression that his defeat had brought him the man simply would not admit he needed help. Why his mother was worried about his manliness was a mystery to Shampoo, only a man could be so pigheaded. Women had more wits and that is why they chosen to lead. 

            She sighed again, remembering that his pride and stubbornness was why she was so drawn to him. Life was ironic, that what she loved most about him was also what irritated her the most. _Stupid Ranma_ she thought again, cursing him for making her think this way. Like a milk-hearted outsider and not the Amazon champion she was.

            The door opened, ringing the small bell that hung over the top of the entrance. Shampoo looked up ready to smile warmly and welcome the customer like a good customer. But it was only Mousse, who stuck his head in through the door and looked around, squinting through his thick, jam-jar glasses. When his eyes fell on her, his faced broke into an elated smile. Whipping his glasses off and concealing them within his expansive sleeves, strode into the restaurant and let the door swing closed behind him.

            " Shampoo my love," he called leaping towards her, and falling flat on his face with a loud crash.

            The purple-haired girl giggled joyously, seeing that had brightened up her dreary day.

            Mousse pulled out his spectacles and peered through them, searching for the reason behind his comedic fall. His answer came from his robes, the tail of which had become trapped in the door as it closed. Yanking on the white material he freed himself and gathered himself to his feet, brushing himself off in an attempt to preserve his little remaining dignity.

            Keeping on his glasses so that he could weave in between the tables and chairs he approached the counter and sat down across from Shampoo who had resumed polishing glasses.

            " Why so quiet," he asked in the hope of starting a polite conversation with his paramour. 

Shampoo shrugged " Is Monday," she responded. That was the rule in the restaurant business. The shifts got busier as the week progresses, so on Mondays the place was dead and by Friday and Saturday nights the place was so crowded that there was no room to swing a dead cat. Shampoo shuddered at that thought.

            " Where's the old mummy?" he asked, making Shampoo grimace slightly. Withered or not, the old Amazon was still her relative.

" Great Grandmother go to town, see herbalist."

            " Oh," Mousse responded intelligently before the room once again fell into an uncomfortable silence.

CRASH.

            The two of them both looked up at the ceiling that was the source of the sound. Mousse's eyebrows rose in curiosity while Shampoo cursed under her breath in muttered Mandarin. The only words he caught were Idiot and Man.

            " Saotome is up then." He remarked bitterly, she said something in response but it sounded mostly like an annoyed growl.

            " Has he done something to you my love?" Mousse said in a soft, concerned tone.

" If he has I'll…" SLAP.

            Shampoo stemmed the blind boy's rant by whipping her dishcloth into his cheek.

Mousse sullenly rubbed his stinging face with a muted " Ow."

            " Stupid Mousse, Ranma not do anything. He just stubborn fool. Not let Shampoo help dress. Seem like he fall on ass." She explained bitterly.

" THAT BASTARD." Mousse roared. " HOW DARE HE. I'LL TEAR HIM TO…" He trailed off, blinking rapidly. " Wait a minute, isn't that a good thing?"

            Shampoo hit him with her cloth once again and sent him to clean the oven, hoping that it would shut him up.  The myopic, martial artist stomped of towards the kitchen, pouting beneath his glasses. 

            " At least he'll be gone by tonight," he murmured.

            His comment made Shampoo freeze. It was true. Ranma had stayed with them all of the three days since his battle, and now thanks to Cologne's Amazon salve, his leg was strong enough to support some weight and he had begun to walk with the aid of a crutch. Today was the day he returned to the Tendo Dojo, and that very thought made her day darker than any cloud could have tried.

            Though his black mood and stubborn, childish behaviour made her hackles rise. She found great comfort and joy in his very presence. Simply knowing that she could see him, talk with him (If it could be called talking, and not just single syllable grunts that sounded vaguely like words). She even watched him sleeping, smoothing the bangs from his eyes as he snored in a loud but endearing way. She even smelt him, breathing in the musky, masculine scent of him as it filled her room. Once again she sighed, this time longingly.

            " Watcha sighing at Shampoo?" asked the object of her thoughts, in a polite but downtrodden tone.

            Shampoo started at the sudden sound of his voice, but covered it by spinning and turning to him, smiling widely.

            " Good Morning Ranma," she chimed.

            The boy reciprocated with a hollow grunt, which may have been the word "morning".  He hobbled his way through the kitchen into the restaurant, staring glumly at his crutches as he swung them before him to take his weight on each step. Slowly he made his way to the stool Mousse had recently vacated, and bracing one hand upon the counter swung himself into a comfortable seating position. Folding his arms he leant upon the table and stared at Shampoo with heavy-lidded eyes.

            " You think you could explain why Mousse was giving death glares to a sink when I said Hello?" His voice was light, in a half-hearted attempt at humour, which completely missed its mark. Shampoo smiled nonetheless. 

            " So what were you sighing at," Ranma asked again.

            " Just bored, Shampoo guess."

            " Oh."

            A long, almost touchable silence hung over them. Ranma became absorbed by his surroundings, staring across the Chinese watercolour paintings and the tapestries lining the walls. Shampoo focussed absently on the glass in her hand, as she polished imaginary smudges and grime away.

            " I'd better go," Ranma said finally. Gathering his crutches to help him stand.  " I don't want to keep them waiting and give Akane another reason to be pissed at me."

            " You no want Shampoo cook breakfast?" she asked, praying silently he would stay. She watched his eyes light up, gaining some of their former glow at the prospect of food. But it was only as spark, as the darkness once again clouded in his azure irises.

            " No thank you, you've done enough."

            " Then Shampoo walk with you," she suggested, clinging desperately for any chance to stay with him.

            At this suggesting his eyes darkened like a storm, his brows furrowing as his hackles rose.

            " I can walk by myself," he muttered in a dangerously soft tone.

            " But…" she began.

            " No!" he snapped, then more gently. " No Shampoo, it would just make Akane mad. I don't need that right now."

            He turned, an awkward, laboured motion, and began limping towards the door. He had to clamp on crutch under his armpit and put his weight on the other so that he would have a hand free to open the door, but he managed with a minimum of swaying. 

            " Seeya around Shampoo, and thanks. Tell the old bag the same." He said and then left, never looking back once.

            Shampoo watched him leave, the glass and cloth hanging forgotten in her hands.

            " Damn you Ranma Saotome."

AKANE 

KIYAAAAH!

            With the focus her Kiai brought to her fist, Akane smashed through the thick concrete slabs, a cloud of dust rising up around her which for a moment before she absently waved it away with her other hand.  Rising back onto her haunches she shook away the crumbs of concrete as she withdrew her fist. As part of ingrained ceremony and respect she bowed to her inanimate opponent then looked down at her handiwork.

            _Ranma you jerk, _she thought, the mental words so familiar they came by pure reflex. She remembered his words, his scathing comments as he mocked the art she had worked hard all her life to master. _But, _said another mental voice, _you haven't worked all your life. _Her angry grimace dropped into a sad frown, at the truth of it. Her father had not taught her the depth of the Tendo style until she was ten, before then martial arts had been a mysterious and funny thing that left her in awe as she practised simple kata. Ranma had been trained since he could walk, training in the wild, in the world before she knew how to close her fist properly. Before she had learnt to kick, he had been thrown into pits of hungry cats. She trained about two hours a day, and then only if she wasn't ill, tired or too lazy to try. She had watched Ranma train, for twelve hours at a time, and the intensity of his training terrified her. She punched bricks while her trust his hands into flames. She fought straw men, while he fought boulders and giants. She had not sparred with her father for years, while he regularly fought Genma a fighter far beyond Soun's capacity with ease.

            And it was not just Ranma. Ryoga lived his life almost completely alone, seeking perfection of the art. Who knows what fierce training methods Shampoo had to face to be worthy of being Cologne's heir, and what Mousse had put himself through to be worthy of her. She called herself a martial artist, but now she knew that to them it was just play fighting.

            " My son makes you doubt yourself," a soft voice said, startling Akane. Ranma's mother stood in the entrance of the dojo on hand braced against the shogi doors, the other holding her ever-present katana, free from its wrapping. 

            " Auntie Saotome?"

            " You should not read too much into Ranma's words, they were ill-spoken and ill-chosen."

            " They were still true," Akane said softly.

" No. Ranma is just narrow-minded. He sees very little of worth outside the martial arts that he loves, and has made so many sacrifices for. You should be glad that you have not made those sacrifices. You see the world as it is, while Ranma is blinded by his own ignorance. He has wandered from the warrior's path if he had ever set foot on it to begin with." Nodoka sighed. "But don't worry I'll take care of it." She said with a distracted smile and left, sword in hand.

Mrs Saotome's words echoed in Akane's mind. How would she take care of it? Nodoka was the personification of prim and proper Japanese ideals. Akane knew that respect was counted very highly on the woman's list of the qualities expected of a ' man amongst men.' For Ranma to insult the school as he did must seem an unforgivable sin, but could she contemplate forcing Ranma to uphold the bargain, to make her only son commit seppuku. 

These were the thoughts that clouded Akane's brain as she made to the her way to

the bathroom. Her concern for Ranma's life warring constantly with the anger she felt at being insulted as a martial-artist. Her heart battling her mind, love against passion. Overlaying it all was the question, would Nodoka ask it of her son, that thought was a bitter one that left a painful hollow in her chest. 

            Entering the bathroom she was stunned at what she saw. Ranma. He was here already. He sat on the stool, the steam form the furo condensing on his shirtless chest, as he bent awkwardly, attempting to remove his black pants. He winced frequently as his uncoordinated efforts pulled at his injured leg. A pair of steel crutches leant on the open window, where a broken pitcher indicated his hobbled entry. His forearm was thinly bandaged, the binds ragged and stained a faint green by the herbal salve Cologne had applied to facilitate healing. His eyes snapped up as she entered, darkness clouding his irises.

            " Ranma?" she said intelligently after watching him, watch her.

            " Do you mind?" he grunted. " I'm trying to change." 

            His adversarial tone and rude words jolted her from her shocked reverie; instinctively she dropped into the familiar pattern of verbal sparring they had endured for so long.

            " Well if you'd just have come through the door like a normal person you jerk," she yelled.

            " Well excuse me for wanting a bath first," he retorted. " Unlike some tomboys I know I don't like being sweaty and smelly."

            " Ranma!" she shouted as she advanced, fist raised. Then she stopped mid-swing as she watched Ranma grimace in pain as he pushed himself back on his stool, putting agonising pressure on his injured leg. He barely registered her hesitation as he returned to the painful task of shedding his trousers.

            " Do…" she tilted her head. " Do you need some help Ranma?" she offered.

            " I DON'T NEED ANY HELP," he spat, his face growing red and livid.

            Akane gasped, shocked by his violent reaction to what seemed like a friendly gesture. Never one to be cowed she prepared a volley of shouts, but was intercepted by Ranma fixing her with a stern glare.

            " Just go Akane, get out" he hissed. " I'm not such an invalid that I can't bathe myself."

            Akane turned and left as he had asked, still gaping at the change in Ranma, letting the door close softly behind her, wishing that she could close off the hollow in her heart.

NODOKA 

            With her hand buried to the wrists in warm water and soap suds, Nodoka Saotome watched the girl chosen as her future daughter-in-law, walk past the kitchen door, pain and sadness etched on her face. 

            " It looks like Ranma's taking a bath," Kasumi observed, her usual cheer sounded forced as she continued dicing vegetables. The knife moved faster, the blades slicing the carrots with more force.

            Nodoka sighed and returned to scrubbing the pots. It seemed as if her son had said something tooffend his fiancé again. For the infinite time, she cursed Genma for taking Ranma from her. But that was not his fault. In many ways Genma had done his job and had made their son a man amongst men. But in other ways the boy was a hideous disappointment. It was a paradox how Ranma could be everything she wanted her son to be, and everything she had hoped he would never be.

            The curse did not matter to Nodoka anymore; the true qualities of a man went deeper than anatomical changes. But the flaws in Ranma's bearing, speech and personality could not be excused so easily. But she would take care of it, as she had told Akane. There was no one else to clean the mess that was Ranma Saotome.

            " _A child is a blend of his parents. Greater than the sum of his parts, yet wholly dependent on them." _Cologne's words, spoken in a voice rasped by age, yet strengthened by wisdom.

It had been after their visit to the Nekohanten, when she had descended the stairs from Shampoo's room, her knuckles white on the sheath of her sword as she walked, not looking back, not wanting to face the shame that she called her son.

Genma had walked in front of her, red-faced with anger as he muttered under his breath about " ungrateful brats," and " respect for his teacher." Not as hypocritical a statement as it sounded, as though Genma hated much of what Happosai had put him through, he still respected the old perverts superior knowledge and the training methods that made him a formidable martial artist. 

Akane had stormed off ahead, now invisible but for the red glow of her battle aura on the horizon. 

Then she had felt a light touch on her shoulder, she turned to stare into the ancient and withered face of the Amazon matriarch as she perched on her staff.

" Miss Saotome, might I speak with you for a moment? " Cologne said politely.

" Ah yes Elder Cologne, please allow me to apologise for burdening you and your restaurant with my son, especially in his current state."

" No need. The boy is headstrong but nothing I can't handle." 

The ancient warrioress, pogo-ed over to one of the restaurants booths, and hopped in, sitting cross-legged on the cushion, with an open hand she gestured for Nodoka to join her. The Saotome woman remained standing, watching Cologne apprehensively.

" I hope this is not about my son, and his 'engagement' to your grand-daughter." She said politely, but firmly.

Cologne smiled, making the flesh on her cheeks appear even more creased and wrinkled, " If I had thought that would work, I would have approached you long ago." The old woman's smile vanished and she fixed Nodoka with a suspicious glare. " No, rather this is about your relationship with your son." 

Nodoka recoiled, almost standing from shock. She had not expected this line of inquiry. 

" What do you mean?" she asked tersely.

" Your disappointment in him is unfounded."

" He has acted like a spoilt child, and the way he spoke to his father and to his fiancé are justification enough for my shame."            

" Then perhaps you should blame yourself."

Nodoka gawped before anger replaced her surprise. " How dare you? Ranma's failings are not my fault, I did not raise him." 

" And by that admission you confess your guilt," Cologne snapped.

Nodoka stood indignantly, staring daggers at the old woman. " I will sit her and be criticised by a woman who threw her own granddaughter into a cursed spring."

 She turned to leave, head held high. Only to have the way barred by Cologne's staff.

" Rich words coming from a woman who carries a Katana ready for the day her own son falls upon his sword." Her words were soft and dangerous. " Now sit or be sat."

Pride falling before fear Nodoka did as she was bidden, taking her seat across from the matriarch.

" Thank you," Cologne said in a more normal tone. " You see the flaws, yet grow angry when he finally realises that which may help him change for the better."

" What?"

" Like all things in life the raising of a child is a matter of balance. The child is a blend of his parents, greater than the sum of his parts, yet wholly dependent upon them. From Genma, Ranma learnt martial arts, and Genma did his job well." Cologne snorted.

" As much as I despise the bald tub of lard, he did train his son to be a truly magnificent fighter. The boy has more skill and more potential than I have ever seen, greater even than Happi's in his youth. But such training must be balanced."

            Cologne fixed Nodoka with a sharp, reproachful glare. " That was your job." She said curtly. " As his mother you had as important a part to play in the upbringing of your child as his father, maybe more so. When Genma trained his son to be a superb martial artist, from who was he supposed to learn love or compassion, bravery or temperance. In all of those respects your husband is a dismal failure. You wish for your son to possess the qualities of a true man, and you expected that fat oaf to teach him. You say your son has no sense of honour. I disagree, he has a very, strong and honourable soul. It is his definition of honour that is wrong, tainted by arrogance and selfishness learnt from his father."

            Nodoka listened to this and knew she was beaten. _Checkmate_, her brain conceded. But she refused to go down without a fight. " That may be true, but as you said my husband taught Ranma to be a great fighter, he should at least be man enough to show respect for his school. But does he? No he insulted it."

            " That is true, and to tell you the truth I can not think of a better thing for him to do." Cologne said with a smile.

            " You think his disrespect is a good thing?" Nodoka asked dryly, wondering if the woman had gone mad.

            " I think it shows that there is still hope. As with addicts the first step to change is seeing the problem. The pervious masters of the school, Genma, Happosai, both were martial geniuses, but both were men with weak spirits and ethics. When Happi founded the school he was an honourable and powerful martial artist, and his art was respected and feared. But as he aged he grew more twisted, and through his later influence and that of your husbands, the Anything-Goes School became tainted. They began to slip in sneaky and despicable tricks. That Ranma has finally realised this, that he can  see the 'worm in the apple', speaks well for him. It shows that the effects of Genma's teachings have not been total and that the boy can still be shown the true path. It may still be too late, but there is still a sliver of hope."

            " Hope," Nodoka repeated, now knowing that Cologne had beaten her. That Ranma's failings were her own.

            " Yes, if you choose to see it." Cologne said. " Perhaps Ranma could still be your man amongst men."

            The word 'man', stirred something in Nodoka and some of her fire returned, as did her suspicion.

            " Why do you care if Ranma is a ' man amongst men'?"  She asked angrily. " As an Amazon do you not see men as weak and inferior."

            " Do not be stupid girl," Cologne snapped, Nodoka frowned at being referred to as 'girl'. " I am offended at the accusation and of your attitude towards my tribe. I have not lived three hundred years by ignoring the potential of men."

            " But I thought…"

            " I know exactly what you thought," Cologne broke in. " And you are wrong. Once it was as you said, but I am not as blind as the matriarchs of past and the warriors who cannot see past petty prejudice. The reason that women have more say in our clan, is that of logic as two thousand years of Amazon history has proven. Men often lack control of their emotions, too quick to anger, too blinded by pride. It has taken the touch of a woman, wisdom, compassion and restraint to ensure our clan's survival, especially during the dark times, when the Musk, the Phoenix, and the Joketsuzoku waged war. The qualities that make a good man are the same that make a good woman in our tribe, it is just that men exhibit such qualities rarely. Your son is one of those in whom I see such potential, amongst others. But in the eyes of heaven both men and women are equal, so I would re-evaluate some of your stereotypes." The ancient matriarch drew herself up proudly, sniffing indignantly.

            Nodoka blushed, embarrassed at her own ignorance and the berating she had received from Cologne. 

            " But what about the way you treat Mousse?" she asked in a meeker tone. " The boy is brave, strong and loyal. Does he not possess the qualities of a man worthy of respect."

            " Indeed he does, and he has my respect." The old woman's mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed in extreme vexation. " But it is extremely difficult to show such respect when he makes such a fool of himself in the way he constantly moons after my granddaughter, it's embarrassing." Cologne blew out a hiss of air in annoyance.

            " Be that as it may, Mousse is the most impressive male our tribe had produced in three generations. As you have said his loyalty and determination are worthy of admiration." She leant forward over the table, smiling proudly. " Did you know the style he uses, the Art of the Hidden Weapon. He invented it himself."

            " Really? But he's so young," Nodoka replied amazed that a teenager could have discovered and entirely new method of martial arts.

            " Surprising is it not. That is the result of Mousse's loyalty to Shampoo. In our tribe males are taught the unarmed martial arts as they are forbidden to carry weapons." Nodoka opened her mouth to comment, but Cologne beat her to it. " An old tradition, too old and to deeply ingrained to be changed. However I have made it so that truly talented males may learn the staff and the sword. However such a reward is rare. Mousse, although talented, was always held back by his poor eyesight and so never progressed enough to earn the full training. Or so it was until he got his new triple strength prescription and happened past Shampoo one day while she bathed in a nearby spring."

She sighed again. " Do you believe in love at first sight Mrs Saotome? I never did until that day. And as much as I hate the idea that the fool's feelings are genuine, the truth is a that no-one could be so stupid and so embarrassing if he was not truly besotted."

" Since that day Mousse became driven by his desire to make Shampoo love him. He knew that she would not even look in his direction unless he was skilled enough to defeat her and so he threw himself into his training. Practising morning, noon and night at the expense of all else. His strength and skill grew, no one knew of his real talents until I found him late one night. I had been restless one night, unable to sleep due to a powerful aura near the village. I traced it to it's source and there found Mousse, effortlessly moving through a kata with a staff, the weapon moving so fluidly it seemed part of him. Although I was truly impressed by the boy's improvement, it was still forbidden for him to touch a weapon. I may not be fond of the law but I was still the matriarch and it was my duty to make an example of him. I felt that a small beating would suffice, but then recoiled in shock as he made the staff disappear. It simply was there, and then it was gone, vanishing in the folds of his robe. And without a pause in the flow, he pulled a large sword from his sleeve and began practising with that. To this day I still do not know how he does, and nor will he share the secret with anyone. I believe it has something to do with creating an envelope in the dimensions of space using his Ki, yet I just can't figure out how. The robes are just cover, a plug over the hole. But I digress. I had left Mousse to his own devices, to see how the technique would progress. But the fool revealed himself, during one of the male tournament. Shampoo had been in the audience, in an attempt to impress her he knocked his opponent unconscious with a Disney character that he had somehow hidden. Just pulled out a black-eared mousse and cracked the boy around the head with it. It took a lot of string-pulling to not have the council exile him, but he was disqualified from the tournament."

" Such a change for the woman he loved, how romantic." Nodoka said absently, wondering when the last time Genma had done anything romantic was. _Hm, when was 197?. _

" You could say that, but mostly I would say it speaks of his loyalty, to Shampoo and to his tribe both are unquestioned."

" If his method of gaining Shampoo's affections trouble you could you not make him change them?" Nodoka asked curiously, wondering how Ranma could be made to change his own ways.

To this Cologne's reply was laughter. A cackling sound, like the caw of a crow.

" Girl," she breathed out between guffaws. " You misunderstand. You cannot make someone change. You can only show them the path; it is up to them to take the first step. If they desire to."

            Nodoka watched her son pick and scowl at his food. The stared at him then at the blade of her sword, ignoring Genma's blubbering and cold sweats. _It is a mother's duty to raise her son right, _she thought. _And it is also her duty to resolve the mistake when she fails. _

To be continued.

AN- Sorry I don't update more, and I hope none of you have forgotten this story or me. Unfortunately, its only going to get slower. You see this September I started university, I am a Physics student at Loughborough University (one of the best science schools in England), and you would not believe how much work is involved. So it makes it hard to find time to write, not to mention find inspiration when surrounded by equations all the time. Nevertheless I shall endeavour to continue this saga, and start on others. As long as I read enough good Ranma fics, and practise my martial arts to keep interested, this story should flow. But still I am sorry I don't write faster and hope you will continue reading.

Thanks

Beer-monster.  


	7. Lighting Fire

_Honour And Pride_ By Beer-Monster. Book I: The Mantis Saga 

Chapter Seven: Lighting Fire. RYOGA 

            The street was like any other in Tokyo. Filled with a heaving, pulsating throng of people. They flowed like a river, wave after wave of bodies streaming in a turbulent current. And like the river, the flows part for the rock jutting in the waters path. However, unlike the river this rock moved. It came in the form of a young man with dark, tousled hair barely visible behind the map that he held close to his face. He waded through the sea of humanity ignorantly, not noticing that when he bumped into another person, that unfortunate body was hurtled forcefully from his path. No, the youth just carried on walking sending more people flying into the walls of nearby buildings. 

            " How did I get stuck in the middle of this forest?" Ryoga mumbled as he twisted the map left and right in his grip.

            **WHACK,** another bystander knocked into the air.

            " And why are these trees so close together?" _I can barely go a step without hitting one_.

            **BANG!**

" Hey watch where your going you jerk!"

            " And why are the trees insulting me?" _Wait a minute. Talking trees?_

Ryoga lowered the map, his green eyes widening as he saw the endless sea of bodies massed over the street. His jaw dropped revealing his fangs. Then he growled.

            " AW CRAP!" he screamed. " NOW WHERE THE HELL AM I?"

            " You're in Tokyo you nut," replied one of the passers-by as he walked past the shouting lunatic.

            " Tokyo," he repeated, eyes watering with joy.  _Akane, you're so close. _Birds sang and bells rang as he imagined his triumphant return to the smiling face of the one he loved.  Eager to be reunited with his beloved, he reached out and grabbed a body from the passing stream of people. 

            " Which way to the Tendo Dojo?" he yelled into the young woman's face. Already planning his romantic confession of love and his defeat of Ranma.

            " Well Ryoga," responded a familiar, dry voice. " If you put me down and give me two thousand yen, I might tell you."

            He focussed his eyes on the face of the woman in front of him, the details accreting in his mind. Pretty. Short, brown hair. Hazel eyes. Crooked smile. Sarcastically, arched eyebrow. And the really, big giveaway; demanding money.

            " Nabiki," he said in recognition. Then he noticed that he was still lifting her up by her shoulders and put her down. Hand straying behind his head to scratch timidly at his scalp. " Sorry about that, heh heh heh." He said with a blush and a wide, fanged smile.

            " Yeah, yeah whatever." she said with a dismissive gesture. " Now, do you want me to show you the way home or not?" She extended out her hand, palm flat and pointing skyward.

            Heaving a heavy sigh the lost boy dug around in the pockets of his black pants, and then in his yellow jerkin, finally extracting two one thousand yen bills, which he deposited in Nabiki's hand. 

            " Thank you," she said shortly, before crooking a finger to indicate that he should follow. " This way."

            The two weaved their way through the mass of people. Moving through the streets, some less crowded some more. Neither talked, Ryoga concentrated on keeping his eyes on the girl in front of him so as not to take an unscheduled detour via Ulan Bator. Nabiki just thought that speaking to Ryoga would be a waste of her time and oxygen. After some time the density of people lessened until there were walking amongst a sparse handful of pedestrians, and eventually they reached the sloping roof, shoddily, patched fence and kanji sign that heralded their destination. 

            " Here we go Ryoga, one dojo." Nabiki said with mockingly false grandeur.

            " Thanks," he said absently as he swung his mammoth pack from his shoulders, pulling his heavy red umbrella from its bindings and slashing through the air, ready for when he encountered Ranma. Priorities come first, though.

            " Where is Akane?" he asked the middle Tendo daughter.

            " Now Ryoga, you know information costs extra," she replied.

            With an exasperated sigh he began digging through his pockets again.

            " Ryoga, what are you doing here? How have you been?"

            The lost boy pulled his hands from his pockets at the melodious sound of that voice. Sparing a mocking glance at Nabiki, he turned to Akane with a wide, fanged smile and fumbled greeting.

            " He…hello Akane. Lovely day isn't it. I was just passing through. Heh Heh." 

            " Well it's good to see you come in," she said cheerily taking her friends hand leading him into the house. Nabiki scowled muttering in annoyance at the lost sale. Ryoga did not notice as he was flying high on cloud nine, _I'm holding Akane's soft, delicate hand. As a human and not a pig. As Ryoga, and not P-Chan. _He thought deliriously, not notice that said ' gentle hand' was rough and callused from punching bricks and hard pig-tailed heads. _What a joyous world it is to live in._

" So where have you been?" Akane asked politely.

            " Well I went to train in Hokkaido?"

            " You're so dedicated, always training. I wish I could train in far off places," she said. Then muttered lowly. " Then that jerk would take me seriously."

            _Ranma has upset her again, the bastard. _" Well it's not all that fun, I nearly got eaten by a tribe of cannibals." He said while plotting his vindication of the braided scum.

            " Cannibals? In Hokkaido?"

            " I…I think I may of gone the wrong way again. Heheh." Ryoga began scratching the back of his head again while grinning stupidly.

            " Who is your friend Akane?" A new voice broke in.

            Ryoga turned to the newcomer, finding himself, facing a handsome woman of middle years. Her hair was a dark auburn, the curls held in a loose bob. She wore a simple blue kimono, and had a braided leather baldric hanging across her shoulders, from which hung a plain but amazingly well crafted katana. She looked back at Ryoga with cerulean eyes, regarding him from head to toe appraisingly. Ryoga fidgeted nervously, feeling as if the woman could see through his clothes to every stitch of his boxers. There was something familiar about this woman he could not place.

            " Good afternoon Auntie," Akane greeted the newcomer. " This is Ryoga Hibiki, he's a friend of Ranma's." 

            Ryoga scowled at being referred to as a friend of that git, but repressed any verbal protest as the woman approached him. Her stare even more intense, more judging taking the measure of him.

            " You have the bearing of a martial artist, that is plain to see." The woman said, once again sweeping her gaze from his hair to his shoes and back to his eyes. " You must be a powerful fighter to be a 'friend' of my son."

            _Her son!? _" Your Ranma's mother!?"

            " Nodoka Saotome, pleased to meet you Mr Hibiki." 

 The familiarity of her face came striking back to him. She looked like Ranma, especially in his girl form when the fiery red of his hair echoed the auburn of the lady's before him. This was Ranma's mother, and she saw right through Akane's ruse. She knew that the bandana-wearing boy in front of her was not Ranma's friend but his rival.

            " So where did you learn the martial arts Mr Hibiki?" she asked.

            " Well, my father taught me a little and I just kind of picked up the rest," he replied staring nervously at his feet as he shuffled nervously. 

" So mostly a self-taught warrior, and with such obviously high skill. You must be very dedicated." She said appraisingly. " So how did you come to meet Ranma?"

" Er… we met in junior high when he and his father stopped through."

 " Junior High, interesting. So you've been 'friends' with him that long?"

" Well…uh" Ryoga fumbled, lost for words.

" Well I'd better let you and Akane catch up," Nodoka said, smiling benignly at Akane. " But I hope to speak with you again before you leave, Mr Hibiki."

That prospect left Ryoga with an unsettling sensation sinking in his stomach as he watched the retreating form of Ranma's mother. Some part of his instincts told him that another conversation with Mrs Saotome would be unpleasant.

" So now you've met Auntie Saotome," Akane said.

" She was very polite." Ryoga said absently, his discomfort at his uneasy introduction to Nodoka, and at Akane's proximity, prevented him from thinking up anything more intelligent to say.

" Yes," Akane agreed. " It's hard to believe she married that fat oaf."

She started laughing, a sound that sounded like beautiful music to Ryoga, and he laughed with her, chortling heartily.

" Or that she gave birth to that jerk," he said between chuckles, hoping to expend on the joke. He laughed harder at his jest before noticing that Akane had fallen silent, staring at her own ringing hands with a vacant expression.

" What is it Akane?" he asked softly.

            She jumped at the sound of his voice, as if she had forgotten that he was there. 

" Oh it's nothing." She replied.

            " You can't fool me Akane." He said in a firm but gentle tone." C'mon you can trust me," he smiled warmly, a gesture offset by the feral image of his fangs.

            " It's Ranma." She said after a while.

            Upon hearing that name Ryoga's gentle, concerned exterior crumbled. " That bastard!" he growled, swinging his umbrella around angrily. " I should have known. If he's done anything to hurt you I'll thrash the life out of him." He raged.

            " Oh no Ryoga, it's not that he hasn't done anything wrong." She declared waving her arms in a claming gesture. The words had the desired effect as his fury deflated as if someone had poked a pin in.

            " Huh," he said bemused.

            " He hasn't done anything wrong. Well he has, he's being an arsehole. But it isn't his…but he…and…," She sighed loudly, her shoulders slumping. " I just don't know Ryoga. I just don't."

            " Akane?" he asked, forcing himself to remain calm. " What happened?"

            " He lost a fight," she muttered.

            A whirlwind of emotions tore through Ryoga's brain. First satisfaction, _Hah the bastard finally got what he deserves. But also rage __It should have been me. Only I am allowed to defeat Ranma, to __see him brought low. There was also disappointment, in himself __I should have trained harder, should have beaten him long ago, now it's been stolen from me. And disappointment in Ranma, __How could he have let himself lose? The sensations and thoughts spun and whirled around the lost boy's mind._

            Akane noticed her companion's silence. Ryoga seemed to have withdrawn into himself, his eyes dull and spacey. His whole body seemed frozen, except for the trembling of his hand where he held the handle of his umbrella in a white knuckled fist.

            " I'd better start from the beginning. I'll ask if Kasumi can make us some tea." She said, taking Ryoga's hand to lead him into the kitchen.

            She told him the events of the last few days, Happosai's return, bruised and broken. Ranma's challenge to Loaf the master of the Mantis Fist, and his subsequent defeat. And of Ranma's dark and adversarial behaviour.

            " He's acting so strange, furious one minute, and despairing the next. And it's been three days since he came back. His loss had made him different. I mean he was always an impolite jerk, but now he's being a real bastard, snapping at anyone even Kasumi, and that's only if he speaks at all." Akane said, her voice strained and desperate.

            " What a wanker," Ryoga spat. " That is not how a man should act."

            " That's another thing, he spend most of his time as a girl now, only becoming male when he bathes, and not staying like that for long. It's like he doesn't care if he's a man or not, or about himself or the people around him. It's like none of it matters to him anymore."

            _I'll kill him for making you worry like this Akane, Ryoga silently vowed._

            " Ryoga," Akane said, quietly almost shyly. The lost martial-artist felt his heart melt beneath his course jerkin. 

            " Y…Yes. A…Akane."

            " Do you think you could talk to Ranma? Y'know maybe cheer him up, drag him out of this rut?" 

            Ryoga's melting heart froze to the core, the cold sending stabbing pains through his chest. With a crack his heart shattered, he could hear the pieces drop to the floor. He wanted to refuse; he wanted to shout, to punch a hole in the wall, to tell her that she should love him. But he could only sit there, silent.

            " You're a martial artist too, you can sympathise with what he's going through, and maybe you can help him." She said, her voice even more strained.

            Ryoga did not move, he did not even breathe. 

            " I know the two of you fight a lot. But surely that's just some macho, pride thing. I think deep down, he respects you and considers you a friend." 

            _If I'm his friend why does he enjoy making my life hell?_ He thought sullenly. But still he did not speak.

            " Please Ryoga, he needs your help." Leaning across she squeezed his left hand in both of hers. " Please Ryoga, for me."

            _I would do anything for you Akane, _he pledged silently.

            " Okay Akane, I'll try."

            She smiled, lighting her face. " Thank you Ryoga," she said. At any other time such a smile would have made him giddy, but his heart was still in pieces.

            " Don't mention it," he muttered, gulping down the last of his tea.

            Ryoga found Ranma's room quite easily (meaning he only walked into the closet four times and on Soun in the bath once, and did not end up in the Scottish highlands.) The room was dark when he entered, the curtain closing off the light of day but for a foggy gloom, which reflected the mood of its occupant. Ryoga could make out Ranma lying on the bed, scowling at the ceiling. True to Akane's word, his rival was currently female, her red hair mussed with her braid drooping across the pillow. She had not bothered to dress, still garbed in the thin vest that she usually slept in and, Ryoga guessed, nothing but boxers beneath the bed sheet that covered her to her chest.  In the murkiness of the room, he could barely make out the bandages looped around her slender arm loosely, obviously fitted to her male form.

            " Should I be surprised to see you?" she said suddenly making Ryoga start. She had not turned to him as she spoke, just continued gazing blankly upwards.

            " I knew that you would come to gloat, eventually. But then I was sure that you would be too lost to get here." She chuckled, a dry sound with no humour in it. " So tell me P-Chan, should I be surprised?"

            Ryoga snorted angrily, " I see that Akane was right, you are acting even more of a prick than usual."

            " So we kick off your gloating with insults about my character. Not very original, but I suppose everyone has to start somewhere. And you never were the smartest pig in the sty were you." Ranma muttered dryly.

            " Ranma!" he growled.

            " Yeeees," she replied dragging the word out mockingly.

            " I did not come here to gloat," Ryoga barked, forcing himself to calm down.  "Although I can't say I'm sad to hear that you lost."

            Ranma winced, barely but Ryoga saw it. 

" Oh yeah, I bet this is getting you off isn't it P-Chan." 

" Actually Akane asked me to see if I could help you, pull you out of this rut. But why she cares is beyond me." Ryoga explained.

" Oh is the tomboy worried," Ranma wailed sarcastically. " She probably just misses her favourite punching bag. Tell her someone got there already," he held up his bandaged hand for emphasis.

"And you deal with your defeat by bullying women. She told me how you insulted her and her skills."  

" Well the macho chick picks on me whenever she's depressed. What can I say? Payback's a bitch."

" She's a girl," Ryoga sneered. "_You_ are _supposed _to be a man."

" The breasts make that one a bit difficult," she said, pointing towards her chest.

" The curse is no excuse Ranma,"

            " It seems to be all the excuse you need to sleep with her pig." Ranma hissed.

            Ryoga fell silent, grinding his teeth together. Ranma had him there, and both of them knew it. 

            " Besides," Ranma sighed breaking the silence. " She needed to hear it."        

            " She needed you to insult her," the bandana-clad boy growled dryly.

            " She thinks she is a martial artist, when she has no idea what one is."                                         

" What are you babbling about Ranma? Her father trained her in the Anything-Goes school just as yours did." 

" It takes more than knowing how to throw a few kicks and punches to make a martial artist." Ranma replied in a bored tone.

" Get to the point Ranma?" Ryoga snorted.

" Akane, she's just like the thousands of other practitioners of the combat arts out there. A part-timer; a sportsman. She doesn't want to admit it, but to her it's a hobby. Something to do to occupy the time, to keep fit. She was telling me how she would like to act when she graduated, or be a doctor (she would probably kill more patients than she saved the klutz,), or travel to France. To a true Martial Artist, these things mean nothing. All that exists is training, fighting, and becoming strong." Ranma voice had dropped, taking on a dull, lost tone.

" That's bullshit Ranma," Ryoga declared, dismissing the red heads argument with a sweeping gesture.

" Don't lie to yourself Ryoga," Ranma snarled. " Tell me, what do you desire truly. Besides trying to get Akane to give you the time of day, or beating my head to a pulp, when have you ever wanted more than to train, to perfect the Art? Why did you learn the Shi Shi Hokodan or the Bakusai Tenketsu?"

" I learnt those techniques to wipe that arrogant smirk of your face," Ryoga spat.

" Ah yes," Ranma agreed, now facing Ryoga with a crooked smirk. " But why do you fight me in the first place? Why did you start this feud?   Because of bread? I doubt it. Even you're not that much of a moron. You fight me for the challenge, to test yourself and your training. And maybe so you can get into the tomboy's panties."

" Ranma, you bastard." Ryoga snarled, his hands squeezed into fists.

            " You know it's true P-Chan."  She mocked, still smirking.

            " So Ranma knows all does he," the fanged-boy snapped. " Funny it seems, that your great philosophy on martial arts didn't do you much good to end up in that bed, did it."

            " No it didn't," Ranma agreed in a soft voice, her eyes downcast and her grin gone. " That is why I'm saying what I'm saying. I now know what martial arts truly is, and the Anything-goes school with its tricks and schemes doesn't fit the bill." Her voice dropped to whisper at the end, her eyes now closed, unwilling to look at the world. She seemed lost desolate, a shadow of the larger-than-life storm that had been Ranma Saotome.  

            _So now we get to the truth_, Ryoga thought as he watched the girl slump limply on the bed, lacking the will to hold strength in her muscles. She rolled over, curling up in a foetal ball, wincing at the pain that shot up her leg and arm. She looked like a lost child, weak, vulnerable. A person who knew that all was left was to die and rot away. It was unsettling for Ryoga to his rival like this, so feeble. To see the person who he had trained for so long, so hard, now broken before him. It seemed like another rich joke fate had decided to play upon him, to take his sense of direction, his humanity, and now his focus his reason to fight away from him. It was all so wretched, that Ryoga could not help but laugh, to chuckle lightly in bitter humour.

            " I guess this is goodbye then Ranma," he said after a while, hoisting his umbrella upon his shoulder.

            " Huh?" she muttered raising her head to regard him with wide, blue eyes.

            " I won't be challenging you anymore Ranma. It's over. You lost." Ryoga sighed.

            " What!" Ranma screeched, bolting upright, her wounds forgotten in her rage.

" You have won nothing. We did not fight, and you have never beaten me." She raged.

            " True." Ryoga conceded. " But now I don't need to fight you Ranma. I already know which of us is the better man. Why fight a battle I have already won." 

            Turning around Ryoga opened the door, shafts of light burst in illuminating the room and making Ranma shy back from the bright.

            " After all these years, I thought my victory would be sweeter, but seeing you like this makes me feel nothing but pity." He sighed and shook his head, " So long Ranma."

            Ryoga stepped through into the hall and shut the door behind him, closing off the angry and shocked girl behind him. _For you Akane, _he said silently. _He will open the door when he's ready._

            Ryoga Hibiki walked through the Tendo halls absently, hoping for the first time in his life, to get lost.

RANMA 

            Ranma stared towards door Ryoga had just left through. She did not actually see the door; all her attentions were focussed upon the war between the voices in her head. The door was just a convenient point for her vacant eyes to fix upon while the past echoed in her mind. Words, feelings and memories were given form and shape on the battlefield of her psyche.

            " Ha Ha Ha, You've gotten weak Ranma!" said a figure that resembled Ryoga, dressed in the same bandana and torn, black shirt. But this person was different, his fangs huge, yellowed and sharp, threads of saliva hanging when he spoke. His dark hair was wild and feral, like the hackles of an angry wolf. The green eyes seemed to glow with a fierce, inhuman light. 

            " Your kick felt like the touch of baby's foot," it snarled.

            Laughter came from the one who faced him. This figure was a giant. Not in physical size, but in spirit. A Titan. He seemed to glow a radiant blue as he faced the animalistic doppelganger, with a cocky smirk. Pride swelled from him, enveloping him, crackling around him like lightning. Howling gusts of wind whipped around him, his dark braid coiling and writhing from his head. Ranma thought she knew this man, something about him seemed so familiar, but also so lost to him.

            " Just 'cause you've gotten a little tougher Ryoga, doesn't make you invulnerable."  The man declared, chest swelling.

            _Such strength, I remember that feeling._

            The scene changed then, the background morphing and fading like ripples across a pond, to a new place, another fight, another day.

            " You will never defeat me again Ranma," yelled the feral Ryoga-thing as it shot a green bolt of energy at the pig-tailed one. He fought back with a blast of shining blue; the two flashes stuck each other and vanished.

            " You should know you can never defeat me by now Ryoga," the glowing man mocked.

            _The rush of adrenalin in my veins. The thrill of the fight. Riding the razor blade of life at full speed with the wind in my hair._

Once again the world seemed to ripple, blurring and pulsating. When it cleared the bandana-wearing animal loomed over his foe, who was crouched on his knees, pushing himself up.He looked no less amazing, even upon his knees there was still fire in his eyes.

            " I will never concede defeat," he cried. " Never, in any fight."

            _Never concede defeat. I was like that. NO. I **AM **_ _like that. I am a warrior._ Ranma mind screamed, and she felt strength flood through her limbs as she gripped her sheets. _I do not bow, I will never bend and I will never break. I will fight._

Ranma roared like a dragon as she surged with life, flinging the bedclothes off. She swung, out of bed. Pain lanced through her wounds, but she did not care. She was awash with determination. 

            " I'll show the bastard." She swore. _I will never concede defeat, in any fight._

" Especially to Ryoga Hibiki." She growled_, _reaching for her crutches.

UKYO 

            The winter sun hung low in the sky, bright shards of sunlight cut in through the glass of the windows, dust swilling in their path. The chairs, booths and tables of the restaurant cast long, harsh shadows across the floor. Sounds and scents filled the air, the noise of chewing and sizzling combined with the smoke billowing from the grill and the smell of frying batter. 

            Ukyo Kuonji, sighed wiping the sweat and condensed steam from her brow. This week had been the week from hell. Customers had flocked to her store in droves. _Mental note: Never do any, buy one get another one for half price offers ever again_, she thought with a grimace. It had seemed such a good idea when she had read of it in her ' **How to run a successful restaurant business**,' book that she had purchased from Nabiki. But that combined with her delicious (even if she says so herself) okonomiyakistarted a seemingly endless flood of hungry customers. The feeding frenzy was made worse by the mysterious three day closing of the Nekohanten.

            Ukyo grimaced. That worried her and sent alarms and claxons ringing in her ears. She just knew that Chinese bitch Shampoo was planning something, and she just knew that it involved her Ranchan. 

            " Excuse me Miss", said one of the customers who sat at her counter, half way through an Ucchan special. " It's a duck."

            Ukyo smiled apologetically at the man, not even watching her hands as they flipped over another batter base. " I'm sorry sugar," she soothed. " I'm afraid we don't serve duck okonomiyaki, perhaps you would prefer something with seafood."

            The customer blinked, and then cleared his throat. " Uh, no Miss you misunderstand. Not a duck okonomiyaki, an actual duck." He pointed at the floor beside his stool.

            " Huh!?" she muttered, walking around her grill to see where the man was indicating. Sure enough there was a duck, waddling about and bumping between the legs of the man's stool. It emitted a series of angry quacks and flapped its wings in a huff. The strangest thing was that the bird seemed to be wearing a miniature pair of bi-focal spectacles. 

            " Mousse?" she asked.

            At the sound of his name the transformed Amazon turned towards her (well vaguely in her direction) and squawked, once again shaking his wings furiously.

            " QUACK! QUACK! QUACK!"

            Ukyo blew out her breath in irritation. " Yeah, yeah quit you're quacking. I'll go get the kettle."

            The customer shook his head and returned to his food trying to ignore the fact that the chef was carrying on a conversation with a mallard. Living in Nerima people got extremely skilled at ignoring strange things.

            The young cook returned behind the counter, pausing to spread a handful of noodles upon one of the Japanese pizzas, and crouched down to rummage amongst the ingredient cupboards beneath the hob. She extracted a large brass kettle, shook it to confirm that it was still full, and placed it on the stove to heat. That done, she took hold of Mousse by his tail feathers, to stop him from repeatedly walking into a table leg, and carried him into the back. To have a naked Chinese boy suddenly appear in front of her patrons was probably bad for business, (well male patrons anyway). Humming nonchalantly, she went back to the duties of a chef, spreading sauces and frying meat, until a shrill scream whistled through the air. Grabbing the kettle by the handle she carried it off behind her and doused the duck with the contents.

            " DAMN THAT'S HOT!" the boy cried as his form rippled, solidifying into that of a lean, muscular youth with long, dark locks, a pair of glasses hanging from one ear. Steam still billowed from his damp, reddened skin as he stretched the kinks from his joints. Then in a blur of motion he latched onto Ukyo, throwing his arms about her.

            " Oh Shampoo, you've forgiven me." He wept as he squeezed her tighter.

            Ukyo began trembling with range, as she balled her hands into fists and ground her teeth together. Her face reddened in rage and her mouth frothed. Being glomped by naked and blind perverts was bad enough. But to be mistaken for that tart was unforgivable.

            " I ain't Shampoo you jackass." She screamed, bashing him over the head with the kettle still clutched in her hand.

            Mousse gathered himself from the floor, and rubbed at the rapidly swelling lump on his skull. His mind processed the information, not Shampoo, female, bad grammar. Only one person it could be.

            " Saotome you wretch," he roared. " How dare you use your cursed form to impersonate my beloved Jade Princess. And I thought you were injured. Now you will…"   

**CLANG**

            Ukyo chastised him with the kettle once again, gifting him with another lump.

            " Put your glasses on you blind berk," she snapped.

            He did as she asked, fumbling the spectacles of his ear on onto his face, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with one finger. Once placed, he squinted through the huge, distended lenses.

            " Kuonji, what are you doing in the Nekohanten?" He asked.

            " You're in my restaurant fool," she sighed, rolling her eyes. In doing so she noticed another 'small' problem. " And put some clothes on you jerk, this is a family place."

            With a muffled squeak Mousse made a rushed, clumsy attempt to cover himself. The skin of his entire body flushed bright red, but this time not from the heat. Turning his back on Ukyo, he used his Ki to open a small pouch-like rift, from which pulled a spare set of clothes, which he promptly threw himself into. Now dressed in his usual attire of black pants, slippers and the characteristic, patterned, white robes; he spun back around to apologise to Ukyo.

            " I'm sorry about that and thanks for the water." He said with a small bow.

            " Your welcome I guess," Ukyo replied slowly calming down.

            A slow pause hung out, the sound of chopsticks clanking against plates seemed louder in the silence between them.

            " Yeah, well." Mousse said. " I should really get back to the restaurant before the rush starts." With a flourish of his robes he turned and walked out through the front.

            Ukyo started the return to her grill, when she froze dead. Some of the fumbled, blind words Mousse had said began to sink in. Lunging into the restaurant she grabbed the tail of myopic, martial artist's robes, and yanked hard. Mousse spun like a top, whirling around as Ukyo pulled a spatula from her shirt and pressed the razor sharp edge to the boy's throat.

            " Did you say that Ranma was wounded," she asked him though gritted teeth.

            Any shock Mousse felt at her sudden wrath and threat was hidden behind his glasses and icy, cool demeanour. The customers did not even look up from their food, 

            " Yes" he replied.

            " What did you and your purple-haired whore do to him?"

            Mousse eyes sparked through his lenses and he growled the insult to his beloved.   He raised a billowing sleeve, and in a flash withdrew a set of knives, fanning them out in his hands like a set of playing cards. 

            " Do not call her a whore," he hissed.

            Ukyo smirked. " Nice tricks with the knives, but it's **my** blade at **your **neck**.** As skilled as you are I doubt you can do anything before I cut you." She applied a little more pressure to her spatula.

            " Besides," she continued. " You should want to help me, neither of us want the two of them together, so we should work together to foil any plan she and the old ghoul cooked up."

            Mousse seemed to consider this then nodded, as much as he could with a razor-bladed cooking implement at his carotid artery. With a metallic scraping sound the daggers in his hand vanished.

            " But he's not hurt because of Shampoo or the old bat," he said. " In fact they helped him after his injury, Shampoo was quite upset." The last part was said in a tone loaded with bitterness.

            " Then what the hell are we fighting for?" She yelled pushing Mousse away and tucking the spatula back into her shirt. " Now tell me what happened to Ranchan."

            Mousse told her. Her jaw dropped and her hands trembled.

            " A broken leg," she gasped. Ranma had fought many battles but had never received such damage. And the wounds he did take he usually bounced right back from. 

" Who would do such a thing, even in a duel? That honourless bastard."

            To that Mousse snorted emphatically, and grimaced as if there was a foul taste in hi mouth. " It was only a sense of honour that kept Ranma from ending up worse. A man of Loaf's skill could easily have torn Ranma apart, he only struck with such force because Saotome was too stubborn to know when he was beaten." 

            " You mean Ranma could have been killed." Ukyo said in a small, weak voice.

            " If Loaf was a more unscrupulous person, then easily." Mousse said frankly.

            Ukyo shivered, her whole body seemed cold. Icy seemed to have sunk into her heart, and her chest throbbed with pain. The very though of Ranma's death was agony to her. It was the theme of nightmares, to have her light taken from her. Grabbing hold of the nearest spatula she began clanging it against her grill.

            " EXCUSE ME, DUE TO A PERSONAL EMERGENCY THE UCCHAN IS CLOSING. YOU WILL NOT BE CHARGED FOR YOUR MEAL. PLEASE EXCEPT MY APOLOGIES, AND LEAVE IMMEDIATELY."

            The patrons, looked at each other bemusedly wondering why the place was closing. The lack of movement was far from satisfactory to the brown-haired girl, who withdrew her large combat spatula and slammed it onto her counter like a thunder crack.

            " THAT MEANS NOW PEOPLE!" she bellowed. 

            The customers bolted from theirs seat and out of the door, not willing to face the wrath of the spatula-wielding chef.

            " What's with her?" One asked his companion.

            " Dunno must be PMS." The other replied.

            " Ukyo decided she did not have time to kill him just now, there were more important things to deal with. Ranma. She knew he was alive, she knew he was going to heal. But that did not matter to her heart. She just had to see him, had to touch him. 

            " You too duck boy," she said to Mousse who nodded and left. She followed him to the door, locking it behind her. And together they bounded onto the roof, before vaulting away in different directions. Ukyo taking the direct route to the Tendo Dojo, jumping from building to building with trained grace.  

            When she arrived she burst through the door, not bothering to knock, not bothering to wait and be invited in. The yearning to see Ranma was too great for that. The simply grabbed the handle and tore open the door, almost barging into Kasumi in her haste.

            " Oh Ukyo, I haven't seen you in a while." The eldest Tendo girl greeted with a welcoming smile. Which then faded to be replaced with a stern frown. " You really should've knocked. It wasn't very polite to barge in."

            A frown from the motherly Kasumi seemed to reduce Ukyo to a small child, shuffling nervously with guilty, downcast eyes. " I'm sorry Kasumi." She muttered. " I just had to…" her reason for being there flooded back to her and she began looking around with darting eyes.

            " Where is he?"

            " Who?" Kasumi asked surprised by Ukyo suddenly wild expression.

            " Ranma!" she cried.

            Kasumi recoiled at the desperation in Ukyo's voice. Ukyo saw this and winced herself; taking a hold of her passions she forced herself to calm down.

            " Please Kasumi, where is he?" she asked softly.

            " Why do you care," asked another more hostile voice.

            Ukyo stared at Akane as she descended the staircase. The shorthaired girl glared back vehemently through narrowed eyes. She moved to face down Ukyo, stepping in front of Kasumi to bar the chef's path through the house.

            " I'm his fiancé," Ukyo responded stubbornly. How dare Akane ask that of her? The tomboy before her beat Ranma more than Ryoga did, if Loaf hadn't have injured him Akane would have.

            " Then where have you been? The fight was a week and a half ago." The other girl jibed.

            Ukyo snarled. The other girl was right. She should have been there sooner. It should have been her at his bedside not the Chinese harlot." Well no one was particularly forthcoming with the information." It was no excuse, but it all she could think of. 

            " And it took you until now to realise he was gone. What tipped you off, the fact he hasn't stuffed his face at your place recently?" Akane sneered.

            Look un-cute one," Ukyo growled, pulling her combat spatula from her bandolier. " Are you going to let me see Ranma, or do I have to force my way through."

            " I don't think that will be necessary." Nodoka cut in, placing a hand on Akane's shoulder to placate her. The Tendo girl scowled at Ukyo, but backed off.

            " Auntie Saotome how is he?" Ukyo asked, noticing how Nodoka winced at the familial reference. _If Akane gets to call her Auntie then so do I, the fat blob engaged me to him to. _

            " He's being a pig-headed moron," Nodoka said bluntly. " But physically he's fine. For now."

            " What do you mean ' For now'?" Icy fear wormed into Ukyo's breast again. Had he been hurt more, than Mousse had said? Was it serious? Would he be okay?

            Nodoka sniffed in contempt. " The fool has been training non-stop for the last four days. His leg still hasn't healed; he may end up damaging beyond repair. His arm is still at risk too, even if it does seem to be better."

            " Why would he do that?"

            " Because he's a pride-blinded fool!" Nodoka snapped, the older woman's hands balled into fists, yanking at the fabric of her kimono. " Ever since that blasted Hibiki boy visited, he's been consumed with training, probably some macho rivalry thing. Men!" she huffed.

            It seemed to be hypocrisy beyond belief that the woman who made her son promise under the threat of death to become a man, would complain about the famous male characteristic; stubbornness. Of course Ukyo did not mention this, she thought it unwise to anger her future mother-in-law.    

             " While his arm was still injured he spent the day doing one handed push-ups and thrusting his good arm into fires to pull out chestnuts. God alone knows why?" Nodoka no longer seemed to be talking to the girls before her; rather she just seemed to be complaining to the air in the typical manner of an angry mother.

            " Now that his arm has healed he refuses to use his crutches, spending all day hopping about on the one leg. Says it will improve his balance."

            " Well at least he's active Auntie," Kasumi interjected, hoping to calm the Saotome matriarch.

            " Yes, at least he's active." Nodoka agreed. "And this constant training, is better than his moping and anger."             

            Ukyo resisted the urge to gawp or gasp. " Ranma moping?" she said incredulously. The Ranma she knew did not mope. He was strong, a person who rolled with life's punches before hitting back, giving as good as he got. 

            " You sound surprised," Nodoka said dryly. " Yes Ranma moped, sulked like a child. A very disappointing display of his manliness."

            Ukyo heard the doubt in Ranma's mothers voice and leaped to defend her man. 

" My Ranchan is a true man." She said proudly. 

            The baleful glare that Mother Saotome then rounded on her made Ukyo want to shrink up and hide in her clothes. She forced herself to stand tall, despite the chills running down her spine. 

            " Who said he was _yours_?" Nodoka asked in a soft, steely tone.

            " I'm his fiancé," Ukyo said with a defiant fire in her brown eyes. " The fat oaf you call a husband saw to that."

            The anger in Nook's eyes only intensified at the mention of Genma. Her hands were white-knuckled, as she looked ready to tear her kimono to shreds.

            " The promise to unite with the Tendo family came first, and takes precedent. Ranma will wed Akane." Mrs Saotome spat. 

            In the back of her mind, part of her noticed that she had heard no words of denial from the Short-haired Tendo girl, and that part was scared. The rest of her rose up proudly to face the older woman before her, and would not be cowed.

            " That oath didn't take much of a precedent when Genma ran off with my dowry." Ukyo strengthened her own glare and fought on, matching Nodoka's resolve.

            " You will be paid back. I will make sure of it. But Ranma must marry Akane." The older woman promised, and that promise only made Ukyo even more furious. She would not just be paid off, as if her emotions could be bought.

            " I do not want paying." She hissed. " I just want Ranma. That's all I'll ever want"

            Both Akane and Kasumi gasped at her words, but she barely heard it. She kept her eyes fixed on Nodoka as the other woman's lips curled into a mocking smirk, one that reminded of the smile Ranma wore when he fought, just more sinister.

            " I'm afraid what you want doesn't matter my dear," Nodoka said in a voice that dripped with acid.

            Ukyo growled, her grip tightening on her spatula. " Does what Ranma want matter?" she bit out. " In the end it's his choice."

            Nodoka trembled with rage as she drew herself up. " My son will do what honour demands!" She roared. But there was a vacancy to her tone that made Ukyo think that the woman was trying to convince herself more than Ukyo.  Still seething, Nodoka spun on her heel and left.

            " Way to get in with the family," Akane said acerbically. 

            Ukyo turned to the other girl with a smirk, and a shrug. " Just had to let her know that I wouldn't give up. In the end it's Ranma's choice."

            Akane responded with her own smirk, " We'll see," was all she said before she too left.                  

               Kasumi responded with a typical " Oh my," then turned to Ukyo, regarding the chef with a curiously cocked head.

            " That," she said in awed tone. " Took a lot of courage Ukyo." 

            Ukyo blushed from the praise, once again feeling like a small child, who had just received a pat on the head by her mother.

            " Thanks," she said sheepishly.

            Kasumi quickly replaced her warm, indifferent smile. " Ranma's out in the garden," she informed Ukyo. " I'm sure he'd love to see you."  

            Ukyo nodded her thanks before following the young woman through the house and to the garden. And there he was just as Kasumi had said.

             He was poised on one leg, the raised limb wrapped in bandage and splint. Yet his posture was still proud like a peacock, as he boxed with shadows. A thin sheen of sweat covered his bare chest, drops of moisture spitting from his arms with every punch he threw into the air. Despite the seasons' chill Ranma wore nothing but a pair of loose, blue shorts the decorated with a script like pattern. His raven bangs fluttered in the gusts which occasionally battered his body, but he was indifferent, his eyes and mind focussed on the imaginary opponent he had conjured up before him. 

            Ukyo paused content to watch him work. Her eyes tracking every curve and line of his form hungrily, her breath catching as his muscles bunched with his crosses and uppercuts. Even injured his grace and strength was a thing of beauty. To Ukyo nothing was as close to perfection as okonomiyaki and Ranma. _Hm, Okonomiyaki sauce and Ranma…!_ She shook her head to clear her mind of that line of thought, one part of her brain cunningly storing the idea for later. As much as she liked to play the voyeur, that was not what she came for.

            " Heya Ranchan," she greeted with her standard, 'cute fiancé smile'.

            Ranma glanced over his shoulder for a moment, to identify her as she approached. His hand form switched as he continued his assault, now striking with bunched fingers at his shadow-enemy's temples, snarling with every strike.

            " Hi Ucchan," he said absently.

            " So," she said seeking a thread of conversation. " Back to training I see."

            " Yeah," he said. " Well couldn't just stand around idle could I, not that I can stand around easily." He added, his voice tinged with a bitter tang.

            " Strange," she remarked dryly. " That not what I had heard."

            The speed of his fists slowed momentarily as he sighed, and grimaced in a mix of annoyance and sheepish abashment. " I see you've spoken to Akane already," he muttered. 

            " I have, but it was your mother who imparted the information," she admitted, trying to keep the hostility from her voice.

            She knew she had failed when he started, his attack pattern and stance wavering.  "She's been a little moody recently," he said. " Mostly because of my big trap. But please try and get on with her Ucchan." 

            " She doesn't make that very easy Ranchan," she replied indignantly. 

            " But please try, for me. It's important that you two get along." He pleaded, in a soft but warm voice. 

            " It's that important to you?" she asked shyly. Her heart throbbed in her chest so that she could hear the roar of her pulse in her ears. She looked downwards hastily, pretending to adjust her white sash and hoping her face was not as red as the warmth of her skin suggested. Her mind spun and her stomach was queasy as she imagined the reason why he would want his mother and his fiancé to be friends. Her face grew hotter and she coughed to cover her rising blush.

            " Of course it's important, I want my mother and my best friend to get along." He said, naïve as always.

            Ukyo's embarrassed blushes crumpled to a wide-eyed blanch as if the colour had been drawn from her face. **His best friend! **She had walked blindly into that one, setting herself up for the fall. The chef berated herself mentally for jumping after dreams like a giddy, little girl. She clenched her teeth as she bit back her annoyance at her blind betrothed. She glared back up at him, ready to administer some scathing comment. But once she saw the warm and sincere smile lighting his face, her anger deflated from her body like the air from a balloon. Damn the man, but he could melt her heart with a smile.

            " I'll try," she promised sweetly before she knew she had spoken. _Bastard_, she mentally swore again.

            " Thanks Ucchan." He said with a smile, and he resumed his training this time striking with pointed fingers in the snake fist form, his hands a swift moving blur.

            " Ranma?" She said, after a silence covered them as the pig-tailed boy disappeared back into his martial arts. The angry snarl returning to his face, the undisguised fury in his eyes sending chills down Ukyo's spine.

            He answered with an absent-minded grunt, still absorbed by his shadow boxing. Ukyo growled in frustration, clenching her fists at her sides. 

            " Damn it Ranma, can you stop flinging punches into the air so that we can have a sodding conversation." She cried.

            Ranma paused mid-swing, craning his neck to look over his shoulder with surprised eyes. He saw the frown of womanly impatience on her face (one that she had practiced just to make sure that she had all the tricks of the female trade), and his head cocked to one side, as he seemed to consider something.

            " Well I guess I can take a short break," he conceded. " But only for a short while, I gotta train." 

            Ranma bent on his good leg, lowering himself to the grass. He trembled slightly with effort as more and more of his weight was gradually focussed on the limb. Ukyo offered a hand to help him down, but he slapped it away with a sneer. She frowned in anger at his stupidity, but mostly from hurt. Leaning back to brace himself on his arms as brought his bottom to sit on the ground, growling in pain as the healed but still tender bones of his forearm strained beneath the pressure. Once down, he shuffled into a comfortable sitting position, his injured leg laid out straight in front of him. Ukyo joined him; folding her legs beneath her and feeling the dew-moist earth give beneath her knees.

            " C'mon out with it Ranma," she said. " Why the obsessive training, you should be resting your injury."

            " Yeah, I'm sure they'd all like that," he growled.

            Ukyo was shocked by the naked anger in his voice. Cold, hard and deadly like a steel blade. This was not his usual cocky determination. This was rage bordering on hate. He was not looking at her, his eyes were staring of into the distance, but they shone like blue flames, roaring with a fire that built inside him, ready to erupt.

            " Who are they?" she finally asked.

            " Everyone who wants to see me fall. Kuno, Mousse, Herb, **Ryoga**." 

            His voice was filled with poison as he spat the lost boy's name. Ukyo flinched at the bitterness of the word. Despite their furious rivalry she knew that Ranma had never felt any animosity towards the over-emotional youth. In fact Ranma had even admitted that he respected Ryoga as a martial artist and a friend. Now she was genuinely scared for her directionless friend. 

            " Calm down Ranma," she said softly. " You're starting to sound paranoid." Leaning over she placed a comforting hand upon the pigtailed boys shoulder. He glared at the touching limb, but after a moment she felt the tenseness flood from him.

            " This has to do with that duel you had, doesn't it." It was not a question, just a statement. She already knew the answer. " What did he do to you," she murmured, barely restraining the urge to take him in her arms and hold him tight, to brush his hair from his eyes and sooth him like a child, like a lover.

            " He did nothing." Ranma replied. " Nothing but show me what true martial arts is. And treat me like a ignorant novice."

            " What are you babbling about? You are a true martial artist and no novice Ranma."

            " Compared to Loaf I am. When we fought he did so at my level. At first he used no Ki techniques, no battle aura. He fought me purely hand to hand, and although I was better in such a fight, he still could have beaten me in an instant, in his first attack. But no, he fought me on my terms, he gave me a chance. Do you know how that feels Ukyo? It felt like charity, as if he was taking pity on me." Ranma voice had faded into a whisper. Ukyo was speechless, she could not think what to say. There was nothing to be said.

            " Eventually he had to use his power," Ranma continued. " But I'm sure it was not even half of what he could do." He paused to sigh. "Loaf even saved me. My leg was broken, my arm was twisted but I still tried to fight. He knocked me out to stop be doing myself even greater injury in some stubborn attempt to win. I heard him apologise to me, right before I blacked out. He said he was sorry."

            In a sudden burst of self-hating rage, Ranma pounded his fist into the dirt. His strength made the ground tremble beneath her. 

            " So what if he beat you Ranma, you're young you'll get better." Ukyo soothed, giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze while yearning to do more.

            " It's not like that Ucchan." He whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. " He didn't have three hundred years experience on me. His skill was simply better than mine. His Art was superior to the Anything-Goes style. The style I dedicated my life to is nothing more than a bunch of underhanded tricks, for a true martial artist like Loaf it is less than nothing." 

            " That's bull Ranma," Ukyo replied. " You've fought Saffron and Herb, princes with great powers, and won. You've beaten Ryoga, Mousse and Kuno countless times and each a powerful martial artist in his own right. How could you do that and not be a true martial artist?"

            " Now you see why I must train," he cried, again punching his fist into the dirt. 

" Every day I lie idle, the others are circling overhead like vultures, hoping for me to get weak so they can strike. So they can say they have beaten me." He raised his clenched fist before him staring at it intently; balling in the fingers so tight the hand trembled. " They won't beat me, I won't let them. I get better and then I'll take them out."

            " What do you mean Ranchan?" Ukyo asked in a small voice, scared by the deadly intensity of Ranma's voice.

            Ranma looked at her, the blue fire in his eyes roaring in the irises. " If there is anything I've learnt from this experience it's that I'm a long way from being the best. In order to become the best I must take no prisoners. I must fight hard, and fight to win. And I will." His voice hardened like forged iron. " I will be the best, and I will let nothing stop me from that "

            " Ranchan," she said softly, trying to calm the raging youth. " Don't you think that is a cocky presumption. No-one can be the best, perfection is impossible, anyone who thinks otherwise is ignorant as well as arrogant." 

            " It's a matter of Pride," he proclaimed fiercely. " A matter of honour. And honour must be defended, no matter the cost."

            Ukyo watched the flames consume his eyes at those words, and felt an icy fear slide down her spine at the vow hidden within them. Hastily she jumped to her feet, not even bothering to brush the grass and dirt from her clothes.

            " Well R…Ranchan, I've got…a…a restaurant to run so I'll leave you to your training." Business would be slow for the rest of the day after the way she threw out her customers earlier, but she needed an excuse. She needed to leave. There was not another second that she could bare to be around that angry, shell of Ranma Saotome.

            " But Ucchan, I thought you wanted to talk?" he said, confusion thick in his tone.

            " Maybe later, I got to get back." She replied shortly. Turning her back on those blue eyes, now dulled with bemusement but a moment ago held a deadly almost sinister light. She left Ranma sitting there, turning her back on him.

            _That was not the man I fell in love with. _Ukyo declared silently, as her heart broke and sank to her stomach. 

If only she knew that Akane and Shampoo had thought the exact same sentiment.

End Of Chapter 7

**AN- **Well, I've read your reviews and can only say thanks for the praise, comments and requests for the story to continue. Also, I have noticed a lot of comments about Akane tearing at Ranma's cast. Author falls to his knees and begins Kow-towing to the readers I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You are all completely justified in your views about that part of the scene, who knows what I was thinking when I wrote that. Bad beer-monster. Bad, bad beer-monster. I really must have been drunk not to notice such crappy writing. But what's done is done, all I can hope is to write rest of the story well enough and make it interesting enough, so that you forget my little oversight. After all is only one paragraph in f*ck knows how many. Although it did almost ruin a scene I was otherwise proud of. Unlike this chapter, which really did not come out as I would have liked, especially towards the end. Now that I'm at university, I have little time to read anything but textbooks and equations and that makes my own writing suffer. But tell me your opinions, particularly on my depiction of Ryoga. I've never written from his viewpoint or included him but in passing previously, so I'm anxious to know if I've captured his character. Also my writing of Ukyo. Although I do not wish to include too much romance or waff in the story (yet), I feel that their feelings towards Ranma are important factors in how they act, and I was wondering if this is a good description of Ukyo's emotions. I've tried to write her feelings as being as strong as Shampoo's but different. Less lust and desire, but more yearning for his presence and happiness which manifests itself as friend and confidant role (A kind of Dawson and Joey (for any DC fans) relationship. Or an early Kenshin and Kaoru. I hope this is an accurate depiction of Ukyo and her feelings. But as I said I don't want to stress match-ups too much in this fic, if you want to read more on my Ranma/Ukyo ideals read my fic ' on my own', which is also on ffnet. Yes I know that was a shameless plug. So sue me.

Thanks

Beer-monster. 2002-12-10         

PS- Does anyone know or is willing to be a good proofreader. After the cast cock-up I should probably have one. Thanks.      


	8. Warrior Path

Honour And Pride By Beer-Monster Book I: The Mantis Saga Chapter Eight: Warrior Path Meagre light filled the grey sky. It strayed in through the window, only to be blocked by the heavy curtains. The light tried to stream around the thick fabric, but the dark clouds weakened the suns rays, so that the light could only form a formless halo around the sill. The room was shrouded in a dark, hazy, gloom. The two shapes spread across the floor were barely distinguishable as human in the dampened brightness. Well one could be recognised as human, the other a huge, round blob. Its bulk pulsated with the rhythmic sound of guttural snoring. The pattern of black and white fur was barely visible, revealing the figure to be a panda.             Ranma Saotome's eyes' twitched as his mind fought its way into wakefulness. His breathing sped up as his body prepared to rise with the new day. His fingers moved with life as his muscles flexed. His eyes finally slid open, the dark pupils widened, then narrowed before widening again as his mind adjusted his vision to the surroundings. His lungs filled with air as he rose upright, only to exhale as he yawned loudly. He circled and stretched his arms, flexing the muscles to remove the kinks and knots incurred during sleep. Working his mouth to moisten dry lips, he awoke fully.             Whipping of the bed sheets he looked at the bandages wound his lower leg. Experimentally, he tensed the muscles around the wound. Small twinges of pain answered his tests, but not the searing agony he had before. Ranma had done for the least two mornings, ever since Kasumi had informed him that Cologne felt that her salve had healed the wound enough for him to walk. And walk he did, and run, and jump. Revelling in his reset bones. The limb was still tender, and there was a certain lumbering stiffness in his walk instead of the usual fluid grace, but he could walk, and he could fight.             Stretching his arms out once again Ranma gathered himself to his feet, the twinges intensifying but bearable. He then turned to the still slumbering Panda, and kicked it in the ribs. The panda did not even grunt. Ranma repeated the procedure another five times. Finally the bear rolled over, throwing a sign at Ranma's head like a bullet. [Go away, boy!] Ranma caught the sign effortless and brought it crashing down on his father's thick panda skull.             " Get up old man, it's time to spar."             [We can't boy.] The new sign said. [You're supposed to be resting your leg.]             " My leg's fine," Ranma snorted with a dismissive gesture. " Besides I could kick your ass with no legs." He boasted, and then paused after noticing the lack of logic in that statement.             [Your mother would kill me] Genma protested.             " And I'll kill you if you don't get your lazy, furry butt out of bed and meet me down stairs in ten minutes. I'm even generous enough to let you change back into a fat, bald git." Ranma punctuated his speech with another kick to his father's furry hide.             [Fine, but you're explaining it to your mother.] Genma signed as he began to lumber up onto his paws. Using one claw scratching at his large stomach as he waddled of to find a kettle.             Ranma smirked, and proceeded into the bathroom to quickly wash his face and brush his teeth, before shrugging on one of his standard long-sleeved, Chinese shirts and black pants. Rolling his sleeves midway up his forearm, he descended the stairs.             " Good morning Ranma," Kasumi greeted warmly, as he entered the kitchen.             He only grunted in response, noticing the kettle poised over a hot stove. _So the old man isn't going to chicken out on this one. Good. _ His father was nowhere near the level of competition he craved, but it would do. And he would not go easy on him either. _The old man won't know what hit him. _Which of course would be Ranma's fist. He remembered the times on the road with his dad. The training, the constant sparring, how Genma would taunt young Ranma when he lost. How he always said that Ranma was not a true man. How he fought for and stole his own son's food. Ranma growled as he marched into the back yard. His father was another one who loved to see Ranma fail, was jealous of his talent. The hell's cradle proved that. He cracked his knuckles repeating his vow not to concede defeat to anyone. Not even to his own flesh and blood. 

                Ranma had began a small warm up, jogging on the spot and stretching, pulling his arms across his body to loosen the muscles, as he saw his father approach. Genma was adjusting the white bandana he used to cover his bald, head with one hand as he pushed his spectacles further up his broad, broken nose with the other. He was dressed in the usual grime covered, white gi that never seemed to get washed. Ranma watched him impassively, maintaining a slightly aggressive poker face to confuse his opponent. Genma did not seem to buy it as he took up a position across from his son, with barely two paces between them.

            " We don't have time for this boy." He grunted. " Your mother and Kasumi will have breakfast ready shortly."

            " Don't worry pop," Ranma replied, eyes locking with his father's. " It never takes me long to beat you down." 

            " Show some respect brat! I am still your sensei." Genma snapped. Taking up a sturdy fighting stance.

            Ranma smiled, but it held no humour or even arrogance, just ice. " Oh don't think I've forgotten that." He said in acidic tones. He answered the elder Saotome's posture with a neutral stance, arms hanging low and legs casually spaced as if walking.

            " _Shinzentai Kamai_?" The older man murmured. " Let's see what else you remember boy!" Genma attacked.

            Ranma casually sidestepped the flying kick, letting his father's foot pass over his shoulder. " Too obvious," he commented dryly, before slamming his open palm into the airborne man's chest. Genma spun with the blow, landing easily on his feet, just in time to block Ranma's roundhouse kick. The boy's left hand came chopping down onto his father's neck before his other leg caught the jaw with his knee.

            Genma reeled with the impact, and with agility that defied his bulk moved into a backwards, rolling break fall. Once on his feet he charged at his son with a series of jabs, to test Ranma's defence. He found it impeccable as his son batted his fists aside with one hand. In a bold move, Genma rolled his hand as Ranma parried. Stealing the energy to whip a backhanded slap across the punk's expressionless face. Caught by surprise, Ranma staggered, more from shock than from the impact. Genma pressed his momentary advantage to lunge a cross at Ranma's chest.

            He was more than surprised when Ranma caught the fist with his lead, and thrust his rear hand into the large man's ribs. Genma gasped as air fled his lungs. Without the added blubber of his panda form Ranma's knuckles were sorely felt in his side. 

            But the youth held on to Saotome's hand, yanking the larger man forwards and pivoting on his heel. Genma was pulled roughly onto the point of Ranma's elbow, expelling more air from him. Then his son wrapped his free arm over Genma's captured limb, seizing his gi to provide leverage he flipped the heavyset, martial artist over his shoulder.

            With the years of trained reflex that lay beneath his belt, Genma controlled his decent so that he landed on his feet in a crouch. Acting quickly he aimed a fast donkey-style back kick at Ranma. The boy barely had enough time to brace himself and raise crossed arms to take the kick. Ranma stumbled back a little, parting from his father as the older man spun to face him.    

        Genma Saotome watched his son warily. Looking for any hint of emotion in those azure eyes. The cocky bravado the youth usually presented when he fought was gone. Replaced with a steel-cold impassive glare and rock like frown. And that worried Genma greatly. His side blazed where Ranma had punched him in the ribs, now severely bruised and nearly broken. That shoulder throw had also been performed with no restraint, aimed at viciously slamming his opponent into the ground. If he did not better, he would have thought his son was really trying to hurt him.

            Ranma tensed suddenly, then leapt forward. Thrusting his foot at the large man in the gi, as if to punch his foot through the expansive stomach. Genma desperately tried to deflect the kick, and managed to knock the leg from its path. But the force behind Ranma's charge was too great; it smothered Genma as an elbow crashed into his cheek. Stars flashed across the bald man's vision as Ranma again grasped two handfuls of the dirty gi. Falling to the ground the boy landed on his back and pulled his father with him, planting the heel of his left shoe into Genma's belly and using it like a catapult to launch the bulky martial artist into the Koi pond. 

            The panda sat up in the water, spitting out a small puddle and shaking a fine spray from his fur. Genma berated himself for failing to avoid such an obvious technique, all the while afraid for his son's change in demeanour and sudden aggression.

            " Ranma! Mr Saotome! Breakfast is ready." Kasumi called from the house.

            Genma's fears fled at the thought of food.

            " Saved by the food old man," he heard Ranma sneer, in a voice that had raised an octave. The panda noticed his son had now become his daughter. Her skin glistened damply as she wrung her red pigtail free of water. The boy had apparently been caught by the small tsunami that had occurred on Genma's entry to the pond.

            " Make sure you shake that fur of yours dry before coming in, we don't want to leave any extra mass for Kasumi now do we." Ranma said with a lofty smirk, as she walked back to the house, flapping her pants and shirt to remove any excess water. She shivered slightly, the chill air and cold water freezing her skin. She noticed herself limping slightly, the cold aggravating her wound.

            " That was an energetic spar Ranma," Kasumi said as she laid the dishes on the table. Ranma slid the shogi door behind her and shrugged. 

" Old man deserved what he got," she said simply as she sat at the table, between his mother and Akane, who sullenly shuffled over sullenly, sparing him a sharp glare. He ignored it and began inhaling his food with relish.

" Would you like me to get you a kettle," Kasumi asked.

" Yeah, could you." She replied without looking, ignoring his mother's terse frown at his lack of manners.

" You should be resting your leg Ranma, it hasn't healed fully yet." Nodoka said. " Don't you think so Akane?"

" Humph." The shorthaired girl snorted, the angrily expelled air ruffling her raven bangs. " It's the jerks own stupid fault if he injures himself again."

Ranma could not help but feel an amused satisfaction as he watched his mother grimace, obviously disappointed at not getting the sweet, concerned answer she had expected from the youngest Tendo girl. _Shows how little she knows the tomboy_, he thought as he turned to his fiancé.

" Such tender concern Akane, I'm touched." He said dryly, putting a mocking hand over his heart to increase his sarcasm. Then in acid tones he spat " Should have known you wouldn't give a damn."

A hurt look passed across her face and shone in the watery blue of her eyes. Ranma saw it, and for a moment a small pang of guilt twanged in his chest. But it disappeared as Akane covered her emotions by poking her tongue out. 

" Who would care about a jerk like you? And if you're so perfectly healed, why don't you come to school." 

" Akane does have a point Ranma." Nodoka agreed. " I you are well enough, you should return to school. There is no reason for you to reject your studies."

" No reason except to waste my time," Ranma said shortly, avoiding his mother's disapproving glare by focussing on Akane's. That one he could deal with. " What I should be doing is what I am doing. Training. My injury left me idle for too long and I need to keep my skills sharp, like a blade. Isn't that right Pop?"

Ranma did not look at his father, but had heard the heavy, lumbering steps and the soft sliding of the shogi door. The panda growled in response as he made his way to the table, managing to squeeze its bulk between his wife and Soun. Ranma fought down the smirk that tried to crawl across his lips as he saw the bear cradling its side, nursing the bruised ribs. 

" It's good that you are showing such resolve son." Soun said mildly. " But don't you think you're overdoing it."

Ranma's eyebrow rose as he turned to the moustached man, eyes glinting with dry amusement. " And I suppose I should be sitting on my arse, and playing Go." He said with scathing acerbity.

" Ranma!" Nodoka screamed in incensed outrage. " That is going to far. Apologise to Soun. Right this…"

The pig-tailed youth threw up a hand to forestall her protests. He cocked his head, so that he appeared to be listening to something distant. What he was truly doing was sensing. The hairs on the backs of his necks stood on end, and his instinct rang bells in his ears. The corner of his lips curled in a sly, fiendish smile of anticipation.

" Someone's coming." He said simply. He did not know who, but he could guess what they wanted. _Good. The old man wasn't much of a warm up._

" Who is it?" Akane asked her tone a mixture of incredulous disbelief and envy at his abilities.

" SAOTOME YOU CUR! THY DAY HATH COME." 

The eloquent and melodramatic cry was all the answer the shorthaired, or anyone at the table, required. Only one person was deluded enough to use such archaic speech, well actually to but only one who spoke with a male voice.

" Kuno," Akane sighed. Characteristically stating the obvious.

Ranma sighed also, but in disappointment. Kuno was not who he had hoped for. Her sights were still set upon making a yellow and black bandana drip red. But beggars could not be choosers, and he would have to deal with the sword-happy nutcase eventually. Might as well get it over with sooner. 

" Kuno?" He heard his mother murmur thoughtfully. " That name seems familiar."

            " He's one of Ranma's rivals." Akane said, staring daggers at the pigtailed boy.

            " That's not very specific Akane dear. Ranma has so many." Nodoka responded, adding her own glare at her son. "Is he the one with the glasses?"

            [No dear, that's Mousse] Genma signed.

            " Kuno carries a sword Auntie." Kasumi supplied helpfully

            " A sword. Wasn't he one of the one's who barged in so rudely on Akane and Ranma's wedding. If I'm not mistaken he seemed quite enamoured with you Akane."

            Akane nodded, her eyes downcast as she refused to meet Nodoka's inquiring eyes. Ranma could not blame the girl; she too stared intently at her food, suddenly fascinated at the way her chopsticks made tracks in the rice. The wedding was something she would rather not remember. However fate was ironic, and instead made the event something that she would never forget.

            " Is that why he wishes to fight with you Ranma?" His mother asked.

            " That and the fact that he's a deluded jerk, yes."

            Speak of the deluded jerk and he shall appear. A tall, gaunt youth barged into the room, holding a curved wooded blade aloft as he charges. His brows were drawn together into a raging frown beneath his dark curls. His teeth were born in an angry growl.

            " The time for divine justice is at hand Foul Sorcerer." He yelled, as he charged forward. Then came to a screeching halt, legs flailing as he tried to recover his balance. He failed and collapsed face first into the hardwood floor. 

                        " Deluded, you say?" Nodoka said regarding the sprawled Kendoka.

            Kuno's head popped up, his wide eyes scanning the room. Then he bolted into action. Nodoka gasped and ducked, prepared for the deadly sword strike that she knew would be streaking towards her son's heart. Instead she was more surprised and sickened as the tall youth attached his self to Ranma's glomping strongly.

            " My pig-tailed goddess, no doubt you have yearned for me." Kuno gushed.

            " Get offa me you moron." Elbowing Kuno's head with enough force to send him barrelling backwards.

            " I thought he had come to challenge you Ranma," Nodoka said softly, one hand fingering the bound hilt of her katana. " Care to explain why a man is hugging you?"

            " Because he's a perverted jerk, and he won't except I'm a man." Ranma spat.

            " He doesn't know about the curse Auntie." Akane explained. " We've tried telling him. But he's so stupid that…" Akane was cut of as the revived Kuno threw his arms around her.

            " Akane Tendo my beautiful Tigress," He said embracing her tightly. The Tendo heir punched him back across the room so that he slammed into the opposite wall.

            " Ranma Saotome, why did you not defend your fiancé?" Soun roared.

            Once again Kuno's head rose at the sound of his adversaries name. Jumping to his feet he struck a ridiculous pose, bokken pointing skyward, as he stood proud with his hand on his hip, looking determinately at the ceiling.

            " Yes Ranma Saotome. I hath come to free my two beloveds from the grasp of his black magic. Now that he has healed from his injuries, I shalt smite him. "

            " His injuries." Akane asked, wondering how Kuno had heard of Ranma's loss.

            " Yes. I hath learned of the sorcerer's defeat. However the man was obviously of an ignorant lower caste as he did not complete the deed. However I the Blue Thunder of the noble house of Kuno, shall not fail in my divine mission to rid the world of Ranma and his machinations." 

            The occupants of the Tendo house had long since tuned out the rambling twit's speech. All except Nodoka who did not know Kuno well enough to be so prepared, and so listened to the idiotic babble.

            " So you are here to challenge the Saotome School?" She summarised eventually.

            " Yes, that is correct. Although I did wait until now, as it would be dishonourable to attack an enemy when he is wounded, even one as low as Saotome. But it appears as if the cur has fled rather than face my wrath." Kuno answered.

            " And it is honourable to lust after two girls, and blame your defeat on sorcerers magic." Ranma muttered bitterly.

            Kuno however had not heard Ranma's jibes as his attention was focussed upon the kimono-clad woman kneeling at the Tendo family table.

            " Hello Madam. I am Tatewaki Kuno, The Blue Thunder of Furinkan high. I do not recognise your visage, are you perhaps related to my fiery love Akane. Or hath the vile Saotome bewitched you into joining his Sorcerer's harem."

            Ranma barely withheld the urge to throw up, but the thought of her mother in a harem, particularly her, still sent shivering convulsions through her spine. The level of stupidity and perverseness that Kuno exhibited had shot up in Ranma's opinion. His own mother. Brrr.

            " Let's get this challenge rolling." She said, and raised a hand to slap back Kuno's attempted glomp.

            " So you shall cheer for me as I smite the wicked one, my pigtailed beauty." He said.

            Ranma heaved out an exasperated sigh. " Kasumi is the tea ready?" she asked. The older girl nodded, and rose from her seat. " No I'll get it," Ranma said as he stood up.

            " Ah, My Goddess, You wish to prove your love for me in a romantic tea ceremony. I except." The swordsman said softly, hand clasped over his heart.

            " No I'm just going to get Ranma, Sempai." She said with all the fake, girly sweetness she could muster. " And then he's going to beat you head into a pulp." She added beneath her breath as she entered the kitchen. Grabbing the kettle that had been prepared earlier, she upended the contents over herself. Her body seemed to melt as the hot liquid washed over her. The curves of her form flattened out and hardened into firm muscle. The hair darkened to midnight black, as water dripped from the pigtail and steam billowed around his now male figure.

            He brushed the water from his shirt, fine droplets skimming from his fingers and they ran across the wet silk. Satisfied he strode purposefully back into the dining room. In predictable Kuno fashion, the tall boy jumped to his feet from where he was kneeled trying to hug Akane. 

            " So Saotome you show your foul visage."

            Ranma grimaced. The nut ball may get away with calling him a sorcerer, an enemy of women. But no one called him ugly. Especially someone who looked like Kuno did. Hell even Ryoga was good-looking compared to that clod. He brought his hands together and cracked his knuckles. The sound resounded through the room like roar of thunder. He could not stop his lip curling up in dark, anticipation. He was going to enjoy this.

            " And you are dressed in the same clothes as my pig-tailed beauty. You foul pervert." Kuno charged, his battle cry covering Ranma's furious snarl. Pervert! He hated that word. He had heard it so often since he had been cursed, and it never failed to set fires of rage flaring. 

            Dodging Kuno's so obvious downwards slash, his hand flashed out, gripping the Kendoka's stiff neck. Ranma applied just enough pressure to make breathing difficult, yet feeling a giddy power knowing he could shut the pompous windbag up permanently with just a squeeze. He could almost hear the snap.

            " Stop it Kuno, this is not the place to fight." Ranma said sternly.

            " So…you refuse to face the…the Blue Th..Thunder." Kuno wheezed around the fingers on his windpipe. " You…Coward!"

            Ranma's smirk grew. There was no humour in the smile, but a deadly coldness, a frozen steel blade, blue glints along its surface shining in his eyes. It was the kind of smile that Charon greets the dead with, as he stretches out a pale hand to demand his fare to ferry the lost souls into hell The promise of pain held in Ranma's grin permeated even Kuno's deluded mind.

" I never said I wouldn't fight you." Ranma chuckled, a bitter sound full of sinister amusement. " I just said this isn't the place. You wouldn't want to wreck you beloved Akane's house now would you?"

Kuno twisted and writhed in the pigtailed boy's grip, raging at Ranma's obvious amusement, furious at how the demon dared to laugh, as if he did not know that Tatewaki Kuno would smite him down with divine power. But Ranma' grip was iron as he turned to the eldest Tendo sister.

" Kasumi if you would please." He said, his voice polite but still ice.

The brown-haired girl nodded, her eyes wide, her body stiff with fright as she rose from where she sat. Moving slowly, so slowly, yet as fat as her shocked body would permit she moved over to the shogi doors, and slid them open wide.

" Thank you Kasumi," Ranma said, then with a sudden twist of his body, he pitched the Samurai wannabe through the opening like a baseball. Kuno sailed across the room and into the garden. Ranma followed, sauntering casually with his hands in his pockets through Kuno's trajectory. The swordsman landed in an undignified heap on the floor, and slowly pulled himself up to his feet, pushing on his bokken for support.  Ranma moved across to face him, once again standing in the neutral posture he had used when fighting his father. He smiled cockily in the face of Kuno's red, rage-flustered face.

" You shall pay for your insolence!" Kuno screamed, as he stormed forwards, sword drawn back at the ready. Ranma sighed and wondered why everyone had to yell something at the tops of their lungs when they attacked.

The wooden blade whistled shrilly as it cut the air again and again. A storm of swords strikes was unleashed from Kuno, who brought them to bear on his nemesis. Ranma kept on smiling as he slipped between the strikes at if they were nothing. Fierce gusts were summoned by Kuno's sword as it churned the air, causing leaves and grass to spin in the foul winds. Ranma acted as if it was a pleasant breeze. 

Then clapping his hands together before him, he caught the bokkens edge between his palms mid-swing. He took the time to shake his head at the taller youth, and tut mockingly with a click of his tongue. He pushed the blade from out of his past as he sent his fist crashing into Kuno's jaw.

Kuno staggered back, blinking as lights flashed in his vision. Ranma stood there, grinning inanely. The samurai's hand gripped the wooden handle of his weapon in white-knuckled hands, feeling the hardness of the oak bit into his palm as he fought down the urge to rub at his stinging chin, refusing to show pain. There was no poetic threat or invocation of godly favour as he charged Ranma once again. Just a wordless snarl, as he bolted forwards, sword raised high.

            Thrusting his hands out, Ranma grasped Kuno's arms as they descended. Spinning around, he drew the Kendoka around him, and over an outstretched leg. He was flipped over as Ranma's thigh barred his legs. Swept up and tossed like a leaf in a mountain storm. 

            The collision of the swordsman's body against him sent a hot shot of pain down his leg as his newly healed bone was jarred in the impact. Ranma grunted and released his annoyance by putting a fierce foot to Kuno's ribs after the older boy slammed into the grass. Kuno grunted, rolling slightly onto his side as his free arm hugged the offended flank.

            Ranma stood by his foe's head and dropped to his knee's, bending forwards and bringing his face closer to Kuno. He stared intensely into the other youth's hazel eyes, his nose now a fingers width from his opponent's mildly perspiring forehead.  He felt a happy quirk as he saw glimmer of fear permeate the fog of delusion. 

            " Aww poor Kuno-baby." He said in a deep baby voice as he borrowed Nabiki's patronising nickname for the idiot. " Did you fall over? How clumsy." 

            His smiled widened as he heard Kuno growl with almost insane rage, spittle frothing around his clenched teeth. Ranma hopped back as a bokken cut the air where he had stood.

            " Missed me. Missed me." He chanted.

            Roaring Kuno pushed himself to his feet and leapt at the mocking martial artist. Then his primal scream was reduced to a weak gasp as he found Ranma's foot thrust into his path. He bent almost double as the impact of the side kick hit his gut like a cannonball, his feet rose from the floor and his torso crumpled around the slipper-clad piston. Saliva flew from his mouth as the air was driven from his lungs. Kuno slumped to his knees. His mind swam as he gasped, lungs pumping to regain his lost.

            " C'mon Upperclassman. Where is that aristocratic pride of yours? It really doesn't seem like you're even trying." Ranma jeered, and with a sneer backhanded Kuno across the face brutally, knocking the swordsman face first into the dirt.

            " Not giving up, are you bokken-boy?" Ranma said with a smile as he stepped back to allow Kuno to stand. 

            " How dare you mock me cur." Tatewaki spat.

            " You make it so easy to do I can't resist."

              The wooden blade sang as Kuno brought it swinging upwards in a rising slash as Ranma's groin. The pigtailed boy kicked it aside with the side of his foot, before whipping his heel across the upperclassman's face. Staggering back from the blow, Kuno shook his head to clear his sight of stars before lunging at the man in the scarlet shirt. He braced his bokken in both hands point first, aiming to skewer Ranma through the belly. But with a fluid grace Ranma seemed to writhe around the blade's point, sliding to the Kendoka's flank, where he unleashed a crushing knee to the kidneys. 

            The boy stumbled forwards as the impact slammed into him, pain exploding around the attacked organ. His torso was knocked away faster than he legs could scrabble to keep up, and he began to topple over. Yet he stopped, his descent halting with a jarring abruptness.

            Ranma yanked on the handhold he had acquired on the back of Kuno's gi. Twisting the material in his grip as he pulled the taller boy forcefully back to him. The braided fighter thrust his fist into the already near pulverised kidneys. Kuno roared in agony, spinning in Ranma's grip to remove the injured side from his range. But that move brought him even further off balance, and the Saotome heir found it easy to pull him down, forcing him to bend over at his waist. 

            Ranma brought his knee slamming into Kuno's face, feeling a swell of satisfaction as he heard the nasal bones break with a wet snap. Blood spurted from the impact like the innards of a burst tomato. The swordsman fell backwards, tipping stiffly over like a felled tree. Hand's flashing out he snatched the bokken from his opponent's weak grip as he fell.  He waved it about and flipped it his hands, as Tatewaki rolled on the floor, hands covering his face in an attempt to stop the blood flow. Eventually the pain and fluid loss was overwhelming and the older boy stilled as he sank into unconsciousness. 

            " Whose visage is foul now pretty boy?" Ranma could not help but say in a voice loaded with spite. After a nonchalant shrug, he flung the captured bokken off into the distance. But turned to find another sword levelled at his throat, and this one was made a sharpened, glimmering steel.

            " RANMA SAOTOME." His mother shrieked, her face glowing a bright red as rage suffused her being. " THAT WAS THE MOST WRETCHED THING I HAVE EVER WITNESSED."

            Faced with such scorn and disgust in the cerulean eyes that had been absent from his life for so long, the adrenalin and battle high that Ranma's had been exalting in fled his body as if drained from him. He blanched in the face of her rage.

            " Wha…what!?"

            " SHUT YOUR FILTHY MOUTH." Nodoka screamed, trembling with anger and giving of a blood red battle aura. 

            Ranma did as asked.

            " THE DOJO. NOW!" Was all she said before pulling the blade of her katana from his neck. Whirling around she strode away, her retreating back telling him just how despicable she found him.

            Ranma's heart sank, deep into an endless pit of despair. He swallowed loudly. Beneath the red silk of his shirt his shoulders slumped. His face crumpled like a rockslide. His heart felt suddenly empty, desolate and wasted. Vaguely aware of himself trembling as his insides turned to ice, he became walking to cover the weakness. His steps were slow, the souls of his feet dragging as he trudged towards the training hall.

            " Ranma?" a gentle voice said.

            " Huh?"

            He turned to face Akane, her blue eyes were open wide, and they seemed to shimmer even in the pitiful light of the season.  She put a hand on his shoulder tentatively, as if she feared to touch him. Her lips were parted slightly, words wanting to burst out of her, so many thoughts to verbalise, so much to be said yet nothing to say. Finally she calmed.

            " Ranma, what are you going to do?" she asked.

            He stared at her with wide eyes that were so vacant she wondered if he actually saw her.

            " Why, I'm going to the dojo." He said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

            The nervousness in Akane's touch vanished as she moved closer and squeezed at his shoulder.

            " But your mother was so angry." She said, hanging her head for a moment before fixing him again with those big, cerulean orbs. " What of she holds you to your promise? You'd…I'd…" There was more. But the words would not come. Her voice had abandoned her, caught in her throat.

            Ranma smiled sadly. Gently he took her hand in his and took it from his shoulder. His touch lingering much longer than it had to. The contact electrified her; her body tingled and skin felt warm. Then it was over, he let go.

            " So what if she does." He said. " I don't what I've done that was so terrible I just fought a duel. Just like always. But she is ashamed of me, repulsed by me. I can't let think of me like that." He sighed, and then tensed. Some of his strength and resolve returned as he steeled himself. " Whatever wrong I've done, she will be greater mortified if I run or beg like a coward. If I do not fail now, and hold my head high, then at least she will know I faced death as a man amongst men should."

            " But Ranma…?" That was all Akane could say.

            " Death doesn't frighten me Akane." He declared in a tone of steel. " We all die. It is how I die that I am afraid of. And if the reaper comes for me today, I will look him in the eye and laugh in his face."

            Then with head held high, he carried on towards the dojo. But this time his feet were not heavy as he strode proudly onwards, the walk of a lion.  He moved resolutely across the garden, the last cherry blossom petals swirling around him. He slid open the shogi door of the Tendo Training Hall of Anything-Goes Martial Arts, and entered. Disappearing from her sight.

            His mother knelt on the polished wooden floor, unmoving. Her posture was solid and stern as if she were built from stone. The room was filled with gloom and shadows from the weak winter sun. Paper lanterns had been lit and sat in the four corners, radiating pale, orange light that cast a long, stretched shadow of the kneeling woman across the waxed floorboards. A few loose auburn curls hung across her meditatively closed eyes, hanging over the pure, white headband that she wore wrapped around her brow. The katana lay across her lap, clenched tightly in her fingers.

            Ranma swallowed, knots of ice twisting and writhing in his stomach. He had lied to Akane. He was afraid to die. He did not believe in heaven or reincarnation. The idea of a life beyond this one seemed an idealistic fantasy. But the thought of oblivion, a full stop his book of life, nothingness, a void, an end. It was a truly terrifying and bitter pill.

            Now he stood before he mother, the pace's worth of space that separated them seemed like the final step from the brink of the abyss. Steeling himself, he lowered himself onto his right knee and then knelt on both, folding his hands in his lap.

            Nodoka said nothing, she merely sated at him with intense, hawk-like eyes. Ranma met his mother's eyes with his own, and hoped that she could not see his fear in their depths. He wished them to look iron, to look resolute and honourable. If he was to die he did not want her to think him a coward by knowing just how scared he was.

            She reached into the folds of her kimono and pulled out a slender object. It was a ceremonial tanto. The boy expected this. It was the match of the katana she bore, with a plain, black scabbard and hilt.  All together it was unremarkable but for the air of quality owing to the superior workmanship from which it was crafted. Slowly she lifted the dagger before her, and withdrew the blade, the steel glimmering in the lantern light. With the same care she wrapped the handle twice over in a piece of crisp, white cloth. Placing it down, she slid it across the intervening distance between mother and son. Then sitting back she waited.

            Ranma reached for it, stretching his hand out tentatively. His fingers trembled; he could see them shake in the orange light. He tried to make them stop, tensing his muscles for all he was worth, but still the hand shivered. Moving further, his fingers grazed the white cloth around the handle. His tongue snaked out to lick at lips that were suddenly very dry.

            " Sh…shouldn't we wait for Pops?" He asked quietly.

            " I shall deal with your father when the time comes. But it is your own actions that you should concern yourself with for now." His mother replied in an emotionless voice. 

            With a deep breath he forced his hand to close around the handle. Then he slowly inch by inch began to raise the tanto from the waxed wood floor. The light from the lanterns slid in waves along the curved length of the blade, a star of orange light blossoming at the point. Then his fear managed to barge past the walls imposed by his sense of honour, and in a tiny, broken voice he asked the question that spun in his heart.

            " Why?"

            The woman before him made now reply, so he tried again, he had to know.

            " Why Mother? You said you did not care about the curse? So why?"

            " Stop hiding behind you curse." She spat. " It is irrelevant."

            " If it is not the curse then what, makes you doubt my manhood?" He cried.

            Flames of rage burned in his mother's eyes, her hands clawed at the fabric of kimono as she fought down the fury. 

" Yet another thing he failed to teach you I see." She murmured. " Ranma, being a man goes beyond simply being male." 

            " Huh?" Was all he could say.

            " Ranma the oath was never about your form, or about the macho attitude that you seem to deem manly." She paused, eyes rolling back slightly as she seemed to consider something. " Well not much." She added. 

            " The oath was about something more, something greater. It was about honour. When I made your father sign that contract it was to ensure that you would grow to be a just and honourable person. You were born as the heir to a martial arts school; it was your heritage to learn the Art, to master it. But I had seen how such talent and training could corrupt a person. The power granted them by their discipline twist their minds and makes them slaves to their own selfish and greedy appetites. As has happened to Happosai, and to your father." The last was spoken in a bitter whisper.

            " I could not let that happen to you." She continued. " I wanted you to different. To be a true Master of the Art, one who used his skills wisely, his fists bound by the code of bushido. A warrior."

            " But Mother, I am warrior. I have honour."

            He never saw her move. Just the deep sting that remained after her full armed slap whipped across his face. Lights flickered across his sight at his jaw was nearly knocked off hinge. Ryoga's fists did not hurt that much, although the pain was mostly in his heart and not his cheek.

            " How dare you say that?" She spat. " After what you have just done to that boy. Honour? Bah! You do not know the meaning of the word."

            " But that was a duel." He protested.

            " That was a slaughter." Nodoka screamed. " You picked him apart, piece by piece. He was no challenge to you, and from what stories I have heard he never had been. Yet you went at him mercilessly, where you should have instead shown restraint. You used potentially fatal strikes to vital organs, broke his nose, and even kicked him when he was down. That is the behaviour of a dog not a warrior."

            " But he was trying to kill me. They all do." He said a flash of anger returning.

            " You know he stood no chance of that. And even so. You could have disarmed him easily enough, or rendered him unconscious at the start. But instead you dragged the fight out so that you could inflict greater damage on him. The word used to describe such behaviour is _torture_."

            Ranma dropped his head at his mother's scathing accusations. It was true. He saw that now. Shame flooded his being; he despised himself. He felt lower than the worms in the soil. Guilt welled up in him, rising and building as Nodoka drove home her prosecution.

            " It was not just today. There are other such examples of your disgrace. Your arrogance. The way you treat your fiancé. Granted Akane is not easy to live with, but she does not deserve the disrespect you give her. You are also leading on no less than four women." Ranma opened his mouth to protest, but was forestalled. " I know that you do not encourage them but you do not actively discourage them either. And your reported behaviour with Ms. Shampoo over the reversal jewel incident shows that you find some sort of egotistical pleasure in having these women follow you. I also hear that you attributed that to your 'sense of honour'."

            " However the most damning evidence has come recently, with how you dealt with your defeat at the hands of Loaf. A true man would learn from his loss and accept it. It is said defeat makes us stronger. But it made you weak at first, as you hid in your room moping, lashing out at the world around and burying your head in the sand. You gave up instead of fighting back. And then that damned Hibiki boy came. He got you out of bed at least. But then you became worse, bitter and twisted by your own pride you turned rude and insulting, snapping at everyone like a cornered lion. And it is this behaviour that led you to the despicable events of this morning. You are no warrior, but a mad dog, and should be dealt with the same way." 

            Tears rolled uninhibited from down Ranma's cheek, he could not hold them in. The salty droplets of shame welled up and streamed, falling from his chin and his head hung low, bangs like a raven-black curtain over the weeping eyes. _Men do not cry_, one part of his mind said. But he did not care, nor did he try and stop the tears. He had already proven that he was no man, so it was perfectly fine for him to cry.

            He clenched his fist around the tanto, lifted it from the floor again. Seizing the handle with to hands he turned the blade so that it pointed towards his belly ready to make the z shaped incision that would spill out his shame and dishonour as well as he guts and blood. His knuckles were white, and his hands still trembled. He stared at his mother determinately, his vision blurry with tears, as she stood and pulled her swords free of it's sheath, the ring of sliding metal hung in the air. She raised it above her left shoulder preparing for the mercy stroke that would cleave his head from his shoulders.

            " Ranma," she said softly, almost tenderly. " Are you afraid to die."

            " Yes," he whispered. Now was not a time to lie.

            "  Then why are you doing this?" She asked.

            " There is no other way." He replied, his mind spun with confusion. Was this some sort of test?

            " Yes there is. You could run. It is your choice."

            He could but what would be the point. Why run and live the life of a coward. All his life he had bragged and postured, so proud of his manliness, his skill in the art, his sleek and handsome looks. Now he realised it was false. But at least now he had a chance. An opportunity to be a real man, for one brief, shining moment.

            " I choose death," he declared and pulled the knife at his stomach.

            **" STOP!"**.

 The sword clattered to the floor, cast aside suddenly. Nodoka braced herself against her son, her hands seizing the blade tightly to halt its path. Her muscles bunched as she fought her son to bring the tanto to a stop. Blood glistened wetly, a thin layer of red smeared across the steel. Nodoka winced slightly at the stinging pain as the dagger bit into her flesh. Grabbing the blade harder she pulled the weapon from Ranma's now numb fingers.

" Why?" He said, eyes wide and welled with tears.

" My son," she gasped, her voice breaking. " You do not know how glad I am to hear your words." She could not take it any longer as her will snapped like strained metal. She collapsed in to Ranma's arms hugging the boy to her furiously as she unleashed a storm of weeping.

" There is still hope." She declared, forcing the words out between her sobs.

Ranma open his mouth but no sound came out. His mind was blank and empty, frozen with astonishment. He was shell-shocked, kneeling dumbly as his mother wept in his arms. He could not move, his body stiffening as if made of stone. 

" Hope?" he muttered when enough of his brain returned for him to review hat she had said.

Nodoka pulled away from him and smiled, the warmth and pride in her eyes lit her face making her glow radiantly despite the tears that rolled down her face. 

" Yes son, hope." She said, and then looking at his face, numb with shock and confusion, she laughed. " I must explain," she said.

Once again reaching into her kimono, she pulled out a thin and somewhat flimsy paperback. Placing it on the floor in front of him she presented it for his inspection. It was small and slender, too little for it to be a novel. It was in good condition but the creased spine and yellow tinged page showed that it had been well read. The yellow cover, illustrated with a colour print of a man standing in a wind swept hakama gazing reverently at pink cherry blossom tree, was now stained with red thumbprints from Nodoka bloody hands. Written in a column of beautiful Kanji was the book's title:

THE HAGAKURE By Tsunetomo Yamamoto 

" What's this?" Ranma asked, pointing at the book.

Nodoka smiled a warm, motherly grin. She ran her fingers over the book tenderly, as if it were an old friend or lover. A trail of blood followed in the path of her touch.

" Soon after your father took you away I realised what a burden the oath had placed upon. As the wife of a martial artist I knew that matters of honour were gravely important, but something of this magnitude. A pact of seppuku signed by a child. It made me question the meaning of honour. I had many lonely hours after you and Genma left in which to contemplate. What is honour? And so I read books like this one in an attempt to understand."

" It was written during the eighteenth century during the Tokugawa reign. The shogunate ruled Japan with an iron hand, which ensured a lengthy period of peace. Without battles to wage, Samurai turned to the other gentlemanly arts that were reserved for men of their class: Painting, poetry and literature. It gave many warriors a time to reflect on the code of Bushido and to express their own personal views. This book details the ideals of a Samurai grieving for the death of his lord. In these pages are his philosophy and his creed."

She nudged the book closer to him indicating that he should take it. " Open it my son." Ranma did so, handling the book with slow, gentle hands, as if he feared it would break.

" Turn to the first chapter and read the first paragraph, then you will understand." His mother promised, still smiling yet watching him with anxious and fascinated eyes. Slowly and cautiously he turned the pages, one by one. Finding the opening chapter he scanned his eyes along the neatly printed text.

_Chapter One. The Essence of Bushido._

_I have found the essence of bushido, to die. In other _

_words, when you have a choice of life and death, then_

_ always choose death; this is not all you must remember. _

_It is neither troublesome nor difficult. You only have to go_

_ on with a clenched stomach. Any other ideas are_

_ unnecessary and futile.                                                                                                    _

Ranma read the words. And then he read them again, and again, eyes absorbing the letters hungrily. Finally he stared up at his mother with wide, glimmering eyes. His mouth hung open in shock. The book dropped from his nerveless fingers, pages fluttering as it hit the floor.

" Now you see son. By choosing death; by willing to die for your honour you show that all is not lost. You can take responsibility for your actions, and your mistakes instead of hiding behind cowardly excuses, like your curse. You can be reset on the path of the warrior and earn true honour."

" True honour." He asked. His mother nodded.

" I cannot force you into suicide when there is still hope. Nor can I punish you for a failing that is mine as well as yours."

" You have not failed in anything Mother."

Nodoka shook her head, fresh tears beginning to gather in her cerulean eyes, eyes that matched his own and tears that were twins to those on his own cheeks.

" It is my fault. Cologne showed me that, she was also the one who convinced me not to give up hope. She taught me that a child cannot grow to be complete with only one parent. When I let your father take you I robbed you of your honour myself. Your father taught you martial arts, and he did a fine job. I am proud of him." She ignored Ranma's derisive snort. " But he could not teach you tolerance, respect or manners. That should have been my task, my duty as your mother." 

Her hands balled into fists, and she turned her head as she snarled in anger at her own mistake. Ranma reached out and cupped her chin, gently tilting her face so that she could look into her eyes. He smiled down at her warmly, hand dropping to squeeze her shoulder in reassurance.

" You did not fail, Mother. You could never fail me." He said softly. Nodoka took his softly lifted it from her. The gesture painfully reminded him of the same rejection he had used to push aside Akane's help.

" Your concern touches me Ranma, but you are blinded by it." She said sadly. " I did fail you, but as I said there is hope, and I can make up for my mistake."

" You will teach me honour?" He asked, unable to keep the childlike excitement from his voice. Teaching meant that she would spend time with him, show him things. A gesture of true mother-son bonding, tying them together by something stronger than mere blood. It was something that he had so desperately, and so painfully yearned for since she had re-entered his life. 

Nodoka laughed, a rich musical sound like the soft ringing of silver bells." If only it were that simple." She sighed. " I can not _teach_ you honour Ranma. Only show you the path, _you _must walk it. I can tell you where you and your father have gone wrong, like so many others."

" Where?" He asked impulsively, curious and still wrapped in childish glee.

" Both you and Genma have misunderstood the true meaning of honour, the core of the code, its soul. You think that it is about you, about yourself. But you are wrong, that is arrogance not honour. Honour lies not in you, but in what you can do for others. It lies in duty, duty is the path of true honour."

" That makes no sense." Ranma declared, his brow furrowing. " Why then was I taught by father, Cologne and even you to be proud of myself and my abilities."

" There is a vast difference between pride and arrogance Ranma. A proud warrior believes in himself and in his duties no matter what others may say. You Ranma, are conceited, you flaunt your skills before people to make them acknowledge you are the best. You are cocky about your fiancés, your abilities and your looks. You believed this to be honour when truly all it was, was vanity. Even the fights you claimed were for your honour were merely about your ego. You scoured the depths of despair to use the Shi Shi Hokodan, because you feared it made someone stronger than you. You chased down Herb because he locked you in your cursed form, while this was admirable in that you sought to avenge a grievous insult and retain your true form, your primary motive was that your ego would not except being a girl, You challenged that sweet, misguided boy Ryu Kumon because he stole your name and although a man's name is important once again vanity in that he was stronger than you and had usurped your place was your reason for the duel. Yet once again, you proved there was hop in the way you fought Saffron for your friends and fiancés lives."

" So then why should I fight mother?" Ranma asked, her speech turning his whole world and his pride in his past achievements and their heads and sent them spinning.

" You are a warrior Ranma. You fight because it is the right thing to do, and because it is your duty. Remember Saffron you battled him to protect the ones you care about. That is your duty. You fought against Loaf for the school. That is your greatest duty. Remember you are the heir to the Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts, your duty to the Art is first and foremost Ranma."

" My duty to the Art is first and foremost." Ranma repeated, the words revolving in his mind, chanting in a silent mantra._ My duty to the Art is first and foremost. My duty to the Art is first and foremost._

Smiling proudly, Nodoka leaned over and gathered her sons face in her hands. Tilting her head she pressed her lips to her forehead in a warm gesture of motherly affection. Then she allowed her fingers to smooth his hair as she had done when he was a child, before she pushed herself to her feet.

" The others shall be worried." She said, untying the white headband from her brow and letting it fall to the ground. " Keep the book Ranma", she said gesturing to the blood stained copy of the Hagakure. " I have given you a lot to think about. You now see the true path of the warrior, now you must take the first step."

Ranma heard her walk across the dojo, her steps making regular and proper percussions against the polished floor. Then her heard the shogi door open and then shut. He did not move, remaining where he was, kneeling arms folded in his lap. His blue-grey eyes shone in the lantern light, the colour of a dawn sky as he stared unblinkingly ahead. He had a lot on his mind.

_My duty to the Art is first and foremost._

AN- And so now the truth behind the title is revealed. In this chapter I sketched out my ideal vision of a martial artist hero, everything a legendary master of the art like Ranma should be. This will be Ranma's aim in the future of the story. You see as much as I like Ranma, it is undeniable that he can be a total jerk. And so I set him on the path of improvement. However it wont happen overnight. That would be too easy, and less funny. His life will still be complicated and chaotic, so don't worry about that,

            Also as a cultural note the Hagakure is a real book written by a samurai who was forbidden to commit suicide and follow his master into the afterlife. He became a hermit and spurned the world, writing down his beliefs in a book he never wanted publishing

 ( Hagakure means hidden beneath the leaves.) However it was and influenced many people even today.

            Also the stance I had Ranma use the Shizentai Kamae. It is a neutral fighting posture of relaxed readiness popular in martial arts such as Judo, Aikido and Wado-ryu karate. I myself am fond of the stance in my own martial arts practice so expect to see it in the future.

            Oh and can the people who I e-mailed about proof-reading mail back so the next chapter can be the first that is proofread by others.

Cheers 

Beer-monster. 

 


	9. First Step

Honour And Pride By Beer-Monster Book I: The Mantis Saga Chapter Nine: First Step 

The sun did not set over Tokyo, it simply died. There was no radiant flow of oranges and reds lighting the sky as the golden orb sank slowly into the ocean. No scarlet reflection across the waves or long, lazy shadows cast over the town. Japan was enclosed by the icy grip of winter, and the sun, which had only offered a weak glow all day was now enveloped behind the black clouds, that had conquered the sky from horizon to horizon. Shrouded by the hazy cloak the sun faded away, the spark ebbing away slowly, drawing away the wan light and letting darkness sink over the land. The silver light of the moon too, was denied the city, making the blackness total.

Yet humanity declared its rebellion against nature with its arrogant ingenuity as first one then millions of little lights blossomed in the night appearing like tiny, orange stars twinkling across the earth for as far as the eye could see. And soon the pure black of the sky was tainted by the dull, red luminescence of ambient light.

A stiff gust of wind blew through the silent dojo, ruffling Ranma Saotome's raven dark hair and rattling the shogi doors. The chill slithered along his skin causing the prickle of goose bumps. He did not notice, as he sat on the varnished, wooden floor with crossed legs and hands resting limp on his knees. 

The flames within the paper lantern that stood in the four corners of the dojo began to flicker rabidly as the wax that sustained their lives dribbled and pooled across their bases. And soon like the sun they too winked out, nothing but a thin trail of grey smoke and a puddle of hardened wax to testify of their existence.

Ranma's pupils dilated within their blue-grey irises. The pitch, black gloom slowly receded to reveal shapeless blurs which eventually resolved into shadowed objects. Not that Ranma's was looking. His attention was directed firmly inwards, his brain flicking and filtering through the barrage of thoughts that rioted in his minds.

Any observer may have thought that he were meditating, something that most people expected of a Martial Artist like him. Kasumi had thought so when she had entered the training hall to inform him that lunch was ready. And then when he had not come to eat, to bring him a small tray laden with the leftovers she could rescue from a gluttonous panda. And again later to remove the plate after it had been untouched and the young man had not moved, only to repeat the entire process again five hours later for supper.

This however was not meditation, but contemplation. True his senses were turned inwards, seeking within himself. But instead of clearing his mind of the hailstorm of wild thoughts, as one who sought Nirvana would do, he sifted through them, looking for an answer. The answer was to be something unique to him, something personal and from the depths of his heart. No Buddha of divine alignment with the natural order would find such an answer. It was his, and his alone!

And now with a blazing flash of spiritual thunder, he had found his answer.

_My duty to the Art is first and foremost, _the silent mantra chimed in his head.

He shot upwards to his feet, not even unfolding his legs or pushing himself up. He simply stood. The muscles in his back and legs protested as the blood at being forced so suddenly into action after the hours of stillness. Yet with trained discipline and physique the aches were ignored and quickly vanished. Spinning on his heel, he marched determinedly from the dojo. 

He had an announcement to make!

The Tendo family and its Saotome extension, were all in the lounge. Kasumi poured green tea into a cup daintily held in his mother's slender fingers, as they chattered about cooking and exchanged neighbourhood gossip on the couch. Akane sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa's leg with her legs folded beneath her. The two family patriarchs sat on plush futon staring intently at the tiles laid across the shogi board. Genma adjusted his glasses while analysing the game, while Soun ran a finger irritably through his moustache. There was someone missing however.

" Where's Nabiki?" He asked.

"Ah, Ranma." Kasumi said in her usual lilting voice. " Did you enjoy your meditation?"

" What have you been doing?" Akane asked with a suspicious glare.

Ranma ignored her as he watched his mother, meeting the probing gaze in her cerulean eyes with a blank, unrevealing stare. Nodoka tightened her lids with intensity as she searched her son's eyes for some hint of his thoughts. Ranma maintained his poker face, while all the time praying for her approval of his decision.

" Would you like me to fix you something to eat since you missed dinner, Ranma?" The elder Tendo daughter asked with a warm smile.

The pigtailed boy's stomach growled, woken from its slumber by the mention of food. He quashed the hunger ruthlessly. His belly would have to wait. Some things were more important.

" No thanks. So where is Nabiki?" 

Akane looked up from the TV to answer snappishly. She was obviously angry with him but as usual he had no idea why.

" She is out with two of her friends," was the reply.

_Probably extorting money from some poor sap!_ He thought sourly. But at least it was not him, this time. He briefly considered waiting for her return since his news involved the whole family, but discarded the thought. If his stomach could wit so could Nabiki. Besides she would probably find out soon enough from one of her 'connections'. Inhaling deeply and steeling himself he turned to his father.

" Old man, could you stop playing that stupid game for a moment and come here, you too, Mr Tendo. I have an announcement to make." He declared.

" Oh joyous day, you have decided to proclaim your love for my Akane." Soun cried, a fresh storm of happy tears gushing from his eyes.

" I'll call the priest, Tendo." Genma said bouncing from his futon and running towards the hall.

Akane snorted, a sound heavy in scorn and disgust, deliberately making the sound loud enough to be sure Ranma heard it, yet her wide blue eyes never left the dark-haired boy, she studied the form of his profile intently. She did not seem to notice it.

Ranma ignored her, lunging after the white gi clad man who was sprinting towards to phone. He seized his father by the scruff of his neck and yanked him back forcefully.

" I haven't even said what it is yet." He yelled. Then the hair on the back of his neck tingled as they stiffened. 

Leaping aside he barely avoided the wave of ice, cold water that streamed from the bucket clasped in a pair of gnarled, wiry hands. His father was not so lucky, and he quickly morphed into a large, soggy panda.  Ranma twisted to grab the dwarfish martial arts Master by his faded, black clothes and held him aloft.

" What the hell are you doing?" He screamed into Happosai's withered face. 

" I was just testing your reflexes and reactions, Ranma my boy." The old lecher replied in a sugary-sweet voice. " Had to make sure you had recovered your health."

" Can the bull," Ranma spat. " But its good you're here. Now I can do this properly." He threw the pervert to the floor, and not gently. But the resilient gnome bounced upright almost immediately.

" Now, Ranma, I swear I had no idea that Loaf was the Mantis Master until you had fought him. If he I had known I would never have pressed you into that duel."

Ranma's fists clenched. Warrior or not, his loss to Loaf was still a tender wound and one that broke open too easily.

" It's not about that," he barked. " And it isn't about some stupid wedding, so you can stop writing those damn invitations you idiots." He glared at the two father's who were scribbling names upon patterned, cream pieces of paper that had materialised from nowhere. Turning back to Happosai he continued. " This is about you for once acting like my…my." Ranma's mouth worked soundlessly, his hands opened and closed repeatedly at his sides as he tried to force the bitter word out.

" My…Master." He managed, through gritted teeth.

" Huh?" Happosai muttered dumbly.

Kasumi gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. Genma's jaw dropped and hung open as he gawped through his beady panda eyes. Soun swayed and swooned, looking as if he were about to faint, and Akane's eyes looked ready to fall from their sockets. His mother just watched him, regarding him with the look of cool curiosity.

Ranma lowered himself slowly. Nodoka's earlier words about honour and respect revolving in his head as he forced himself woodenly onto his right knee, before coming onto his left and settling into a full kneel.

" Grandmaster Happosai," he said, his voice forged into tempered steel. " I Ranma Saotome student and heir of the Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts, humbly ask for permission to represent the Musabetsu Kokuto Ryu around the world." Hands placed flat on the floor before him, he bowed low.

Silence. It resonated in the air, hanging thick in the room, clinging to everything. The molecules in the air seemed to vibrate and pulse in the tense, almost tangible quiet. No one said a word, they just watched him, staring slack-jawed at the boy as if they had never seen him before. Rising from his bow Ranma waited

" Across the world," Akane said in a hesitant, breathless whisper. " That means that…that…" She stopped, her throat tightening as her voice refused to form the words and say the words that stabbed at her heart.

" He's leaving." Nodoka said coldly, her voice reminded him of the sound her Katana made when she drew it from its scabbard.

Silence reigned once more. Then everything exploded. 

" HOW DARE YOU RUN OFF ON US? AFTER ALL WE'VE GIVEN YOU. YOU CANNOT LEAVE DAMN YOU. YOU WILL MARRY MY DAUGHTER." Soun fumed, tears threatening to boil on his red, livid cheeks.

" GO AHEAD AND LEAVE YOU JERK. I NEVER LIKED YOU ANYWAY." Akane screamed, the tears welling in her eyes betraying the lie in those words. " GO AND RUNAWAY WITH ONE OF YOUR SLUTS!"

" I WILL NOT ALLOW IT BOY. I TAUGHT MY SON BETTER THAN TO RUN AWAY FROM HIS RESPONSIBILITIES." Ranma barely restrained the urge to laugh at the tea that dripped over his now human father's head or his hypocritical, angry words. The urge was swiftly killed by his mother's cold voice.

" You disappoint me again Ranma." She said in an icy, quiet voice; which spoke much louder than the other's frenzied shrieking. Her accusation cut though Ranma's soul and seared it with pain, but he said nothing. He just kept on staring at the ancient man who sat before him, lighting his long, wooden pipe.

" Master Happosai?" He prompted.

The old teacher glanced up from the steel bowl where a spark caught and ignited a small pile of ground, black tobacco. His gnarled faced creased even more than it already was as he frowned.

" Of course you can't leave." The old man snapped. " I can't lose my favourite bosom…I mean student."

Ranma sighed wearily. " I had expected as much. And it doesn't matter I'm leaving with or without your permission." He declared. " I just wanted to do things the honourable way." 

" What would you know about honour?" His father asked venomously.

" What would you?" the boy retorted with equal poison and a scathing glare. " I know what is required of a warrior, someone taught me this very morning."

" But it seems you did not learn the lesson." His mother scorned him in that icy, blade-like tone.

" I learnt the lesson all right. The true path of a Warrior, the essence of honour lies within duty. My duty to the Art is first and foremost. I am merely fulfilling that obligation."

" And how is running away required by the art?" Nodoka asked scathingly.

" I am not running away. I am just leaving this town as any fish would leave when he had outgrown his stagnant pond."

" Arrogant, ungrateful brat!" Genma snapped.

" Fine then," Akane whispered, in a broken voice. " Leave this pond. Leave me." She bolted to her feet and strode away with hurried steps that fell just short of running. He thought he saw tears on her cheeks.

" Akane wait," He called after her desperately.

Kasumi stood and followed after her sister. " You should stay here Ranma." The words were polite but said with a fierce heat. He had made Akane cry and angered Kasumi. He hung his head, momentarily enfeebled with guilt.   

" Your vanity once again proves your lack of honour again, Ranma." His mother warned. " I cannot condone this decision."

" I am not being vain, merely stating what is true." Ranma protested through grit teeth. " And the decision is not yours to condone mother."

" How dare you," she spat. " I am your mother. Although right now I am shamed to the bone by that fact."

" That makes no difference," he growled. " This is not about family, this is about the school and my place as its heir."

" And that is why you must marry my daughter." Soun bellowed.

" Quiet Tendo you fool." Happosai roared, the authority in the Grandmaster's voice unmanning the longhaired man and silencing his protest but for a muted squeak. Crossing his legs, the withered martial artist returned to contemplatively puffing on his pipe.

" Tell me, my heir." The last word was a dry, mocking taunt as he watched the young fighter who knelt before him with a keen eye. " Why must you leave?"

Ranma inhaled deeply and strove to fight of the butterflies that flogged his stomach. He had been given a chance to explain, and he had better make it good. _My duty to the Art is first and foremost. _Wielding those words like a hammer he forged his will into a sword, a honed blade of diamond-hard steel.

" Master Happosai. My father had acknowledged me as the heir of the Saotome-Ryu since I was born. I had never really thought about that, the word heir was just another term, meaningless. To me it just meant that one day I would teach the Art, but that seemed years away. You too, named me as your own heir, but that also mattered little to me. 

" It was not until today, when my mother explained the importance of duty, as the lifeblood of honour that I finally realised the full weight of the mountainous burden you have rested on my shoulders."

" And what burden is that?" His mother asked with acid dry and impatient tones.

Ranma ignored the obvious venom in Nodoka's voice and kept his eyes locked within the glimmering, storm-grey eyes of the old sensei.

" As Happosai's named heir, I am the next Grandmaster of the Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts."

" What has that to do with you running away, boy?" Genma snorted.

" How old is the present Grandmaster?" The boy asked his father. The question addled the elder Saotome's mind diffusing his anger into bewilderment.

" He's…He's…" The bald man spluttered.

" Three hundred and twenty six in April." The old pervert supplied helpfully from around the pipe in his mouth. 

Still glaring at his father, Ranma smirked mockingly, as the white-clad fool tried to recover from his flustered state and recover his anger.

" Now I suppose that he founded the Anything-Goes School and all its techniques when he sat coddled in his cradle." He inquired dryly.

" Of course not," Soun said, blustering through his moustache, as he came to his friend's defence. " That's absurd."

" Then where did it come from?" He turned back to Happosai, still wearing his cocky, sardonic grin. " Care to answer that one, geezer." It was a genuine question, Ranma new very little about the history of his style beyond the name of its creator.

" Well, my boy. I first started leaning martial arts in my homeland of Okinawa when I was knee high to a grasshopper. I believe I was only seven years old, but I can't be sure, it was along time ago and memories all fade away eventually. The style would be called Karate these days, but back then it was known as Naga-Te Kempo Jitsu.  

" When I turned seventeen I was declared a full master of the style, having learned all that my Master could teach and having surpassed him in skill. So I left Okinawa and travelled to Japan. The Tokugawa shoguns had reigned for twenty years by then and had already brought peace to Japan under their iron rule. It was then that the unarmed combat techniques for the battlefield began taking a more civil orientation, and several schools of Ju -Jitsu blossomed.

 " I was a lot like you are now, Ranma, strong, keen and eager to learn. I was always getting involved in duels and making rivals. I did not win every duel, but most of them, and I always regained what I had lost. One of the losses was to Jubei Yabushima, a Ju-jitsu master of the now extinct Yanagi-Ryu style. After my loss I begged him to teach me his skills, and after two months of grovelling, he agreed. But in time I had learnt all there was for him to teach and so I left.

" I travelled all over Asia, leaning from the Hwoarang monks in Korea. Studying the arts of Bando in Burma and the deadly Silat of Malaysia. I still don't not learn why I continue to live, but I expect it has something to do with the Ki sensitive styles I learnt in China. I moved from place to place, learning what I could and from whom. I never stayed anywhere for long, I either studied until I had leant what I wanted, or I leant the techniques from people I fought. The fights and the duels never did stop. 

" It was not until the nineteenth century, when some western scientist brought his theory of evolution to the orient that the Anything-Goes school was born. The principle of survival of the fittest was the key, adapting to one surroundings and overcoming weakness with strength and knowledge. It was what I had been doing in my duels for decades but declared simply. It was on this philosophy that I founded that school, and have only ever brought four students into the fold. Soun, Genma and two others dead of old age several generations ago." 

Ranma nodded as the tale concluded. " Two Hundred years," he said thoughtfully. His brows furrowed with thought beneath his dark bangs. The old man grinned around his pipe and nodded, knowing what the boy was thinking about.

" An interesting tale Master Happosai," Nodoka said then sniffed in disdain. " But I fail to see the reason for it."

" So do I, get to the point boy."

" You should already know the point Pops," Ranma said tightly, now becoming irritated by his parents' stubbornness. " How did you develop the Umisen-ken and Yamasen-ken techniques; or did you learn those too from a tiger that was falling off a cliff?"

Genma fell silent, bowing his head and closing his eyes with thought. He folded his arms and sighed, after failing to find any sort of argument to counter that question and the issue it raised. He still vividly recalled his solo training mission across Japan .His son had won.

" That is why I must leave. Two previous masters of the school have travelled the lands, seeking knowledge and testing their skills. Using their experience they have added and modified the style, improving the school and preserving its creed of adaptation. As the future Grandmaster can I do any less? I have already begun my work, with techniques such as the Meteor Kick, the Mouko Takabisha and the Hiryu Shoten Ha, I have not only become a better martial artist, but I have also made the School stronger." He turned to his mother and gazed at her softly, his eyes begging for her approval. " You see mother, I know my duty. This is for the Art."

" Ah, but is that your only reason for going?" Happosai asked, giving him a sidelong glare and knowing smile.

" No." He admitted in a heaving sigh, hanging his head sheepishly at the confession.

" Then why else?" Soun asked.

Ranma licked his lips. Eyes flickering about to glance nervously at the adults and master gathered around him, a judge and his jury. After a contemplative and cautious pause he spoke.

" To fight."

" WHAT?" His mother bellowed. " You wish to go and brawl in far off lands like some common thug."

" No!" He screamed in retort. " That's not it. I just want a challenge."

" You want more rivals? Are Kuno and that Hibiki boy not enough? You need more people to beat to a pulp?"

Ranma's teeth gritted at the mention of Ryoga. He still had a reckoning with the lost boy. But also he seethed with frustration. How could he make his mother see that this was the right thing to do. He had lived too long without her in his life to lose her now, over this.  

" You don't understand, Mother." He cried. " You may be the wife of a martial artist but you are not one yourself. You cannot understand how important the fight is to us. The challenge, the test, to pit one's own skill against another's to see whose is greater. The rush of adrenalin when I clash with my opponent hands to hand, the flurry of blows. Experiencing thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, both such intense and pure emotions. Seeing the grace and fluidity of a battle with another master, poetry in motion. The love of the fight is what drives a Warrior on, without it the Art is just movements and a duel is just a crude punch up. Why can't you understand that?"

" What I understand is that my son wants to shirk his responsibilities and gallivant around the world to satisfy some selfish love of thrill-seeking." Nodoka argued, but her words were quiet and sullen, losing most of their earlier passion and intensity.

" Nodoka, if you don't know what you are talking about don't talk." Happosai snapped at the woman, making her start as if slapped. The auburn-haired woman then pouted, like a child who had been scolded by her mother. She was not the only one who was surprised. Ranma stared at the old man with awed eyes as if seeing him for the first time. Happosai sat with his stunted, little legs crossed beneath him, his wrinkled face set into a tight grimace around the pipe that surrounded him with a thin haze. All traces of the mischievous and perverted old letch had vanished as if evaporated into the pipe smoke that swirled in the air. And now sat Grandmaster Happosai, founder of the Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu. Visibly there was no difference, but Ranma could sense it in his aura that carried a glow of authority and was layered with hidden depths of power.

" There is no dishonour in the boy's feelings Nodoka. The fire he feels is as important to a martial artist as the air that he breathes, without it he is nothing. It is good that Ranma has it so strong, and it proves him worthy of being my heir."

" What would you know of honour? You are as foul as they come." Nodoka hissed at the Master in a voice of hateful, burning acid.

" So they say." Happosai murmured, sucking again on his pipe. " And it may be true. But nonetheless I am the Grandmaster; in matters of the School my word is highest. And Ranma comes before us as a student of Anything-Goes. Not as your son." He blew the sweet smelling smoke out from his lungs, and Ranma thought that he saw the cloud waft directly into his mothers face. " Besides, you know the boy is right. As the future Grandmaster he too must test his skills in the outside world, and learn the ways of the Art by trial of fire."

Nodoka nodded in brooding reluctance.

" Then that means…?" Ranma asked in a breathless whisper, still in shocked disbelief in the change in the old man and at how he faced down his mother.

" Yes, Ranma. I give my permission for you to represent the Anything-Goes School of Martial Arts. I name you as my successor, and charge you to build a legacy in the Art for the future masters, and to let the world now that the Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu, is the greatest martial art ever devised by God or man." The Grandmaster smiled benignly at his heir.

" Thank you, Master," Ranma said as he once again bowed low. Happosai returned the gesture and leered at the boy.

" If you really want to thank me you could model some lingerie for me."

Ranma pounded his knuckles into the renewed perverts bald head. It was good while it lasted.

He then grinned widely. He could leave. Now he could travel the world, learning all there was to know about the martial arts and testing his skills against the world's best. More than a training journey, this was a pilgrimage, a quest.

" Don't worry Mother, Mr Tendo. I'm not just going to vanish. I'll be back from time to time to check up on things. And I'll send postcards." His beaming face, fell into a happy, nostalgic smile. " This is the first place in my life that truly felt liken home. I've made a lot of ties in Nerima over the last two years. I can not bare to break those now."

" That's good to know, Ranma." Soun said. " I'm still not happy about this journey, but I can see that you believe in it. I was once a young martial artist too" 

Ranma smiled his gratitude at the older man's approval and nodded respectfully at the Tendo. He rose from his knees. He had to talk to Akane.

Ranma stared at the nameplate. His eyes tracked over every curve of the carved duck silhouette, scanning the grooves that etched out each letter. He was irritatingly aware of his heart pulsing in his chest, pounding against his ribcage like a deep, bass drum. His fist hovered from the painted surface of the door in front of him, tremblingly slightly. With courage summoning tension he forced the hand to obey him, making it rap lightly against the wood. The sound it made thundered in his mind.

" GO AWAY, RANMA!" Akane's hoarse voice screamed from the other side.

" Akane let me in." He yelled back.

Muffled sounds of slow, steady movement were barely audible trough the wooden barrier. He stood back and watched the handle turn. When the door was slowly, slid open the face that glared at him was not Akane's, but Kasumi's.

" I think you should leave Akane alone for a while, Ranma. " The elder sister advised, a surly tone tainting her usual warmth.

" I need to talk to her. Please, Kasumi." He pleaded. " I need to explain."

The brown-haired girl stared at him. Regarding him probingly through the crack in the door that she stood in. Her eyes scanned his face, considering every facet of his features. Then she nodded to herself, and slipped into the hall, and out of his way.

" I'll leave you two alone then." She said as she walked past. " Be careful of what you say, Ranma, and of your temper. She's upset already, and angry. Don't make things worse." Kasumi added, before gliding from the hall like a ghost.

He considering her words as he inhaled deeply, setting himself for the emotional battle ahead. Slowly, gently, he pushed the door open as he entered her room, his head poking into the room warily as he moved.

He glanced around his surroundings. The white walls, decorated with yellow, patterned diamonds, seemed unbearably closed, making the room seem small, confining.  Shelves lined the walls and were stacked in cases on the floor, each covered with the typically disordered belongings of the teenage girl; books, magazines, CDs and DVDs. A tall, white panelled wardrobe stood in the corner, several sleeves protruding from the doors. Beside sat a matching chest of drawers, topped with a menagerie of stuffed animals, mostly black piglets Ranma bitterly noticed. There was also a desk covered in disarray with schoolbooks and random pieces of paper. A full-length mirror hung on the wall, beside which was a small shelf of various make-up and beauty items, and at the foot stood a pair of dumbbells. The plush pink carpet and matching lace curtains seemed remarkably feminine for the person he had called a tomboy for over a year now. As did the frilly design of the bedclothes upon which a midnight haired girl lay curled up, sullenly facing the wall opposing where the braided boy stood. The fine strands of her dark hair hung over her face obscuring her visage from view. Her skirt pooled across the bed around her fine legs, and her slender arms were wrapped about herself, as if hugging.

" Akane?" He asked in a whisper, despite the fact that he could not see her face there was such beauty in her form as to render all other speech impossible.

" Go away." She said, not turning to face him.

" Akane, we need to talk. I need to explain."

" What's there to explain you jerk?" She spat back. " Its not as if I care that you're leaving."

" Akane, please. Listen." He begged.

" What for? So you can call me an un-cute bint and brag about the virtues of whatever slut you have decided to run away from this 'stagnant pond' with?"

Ranma felt his anger rise, churning in his belly like the flames of a furnace. But he remembered Kasumi's words, and fought the impulse to shout down to a mute buzz.

" Akane, I'm not running off with anyone." He said slowly. The shorthaired girl displayed her low opinion of that statement with a derisive snort. " Stop it, Akane. I don't want to fight with you. The memory of you that I'll keep on my journey should not be of us arguing. And I don't want you to remember me the same way."

She rolled over to look at him then. Her azure eyes gazing at the lines of his face, looking for prove of any insincerity. The irises were wide and glimmering and her lids were red and slightly puffy. Ranma did not know why. She had obviously decided he was telling the truth as her shoulder slumped as she sat up, the anger draining from her.

" No." She sighed " I don't want to think of you that way either."

Silence crept in and hung over the two of them, thick in the air and clinging to them like jelly. It pulled and strained under the tension in the air and Ranma gazed idly at the ceiling and Akane stared intently at a patch of the carpet, eyes occasionally flicking up in nervous glances at each other, before shooting away less the other see them looking.

" Ranma, why are you leaving." Akane asked finally, in a small voice. " Aren't you happy here, with us." The word _us_ seemed rather forced.

Ranma seemed to deflate as he let his breath out in one dejected sigh. Akane inched up on her bed. Glancing at the space she had freed indicating that Ranma should sit. He did, both of them shuffling a few nervous centimetres to maintain the hands span of distance between them. 

" I am happy here, Akane." He answered. " More so than I've been for years."

" Then why not stay?"

" Because it can't last. I'm happy now but I won't stay that way."

" Why not?" Akane's voice was becoming tense and strained.

Ranma told her what he had told his parents, this explanation being much briefer. More an explanation of his thoughts, how he felt about leaving and what he considered to be his duty as the future grandmaster. Not at all like the trial that had taken place downstairs, pleading his case before his mother and Happosai convincing them to accept his decision and his right to make it. This was a simple stating of his intentions, no holding back, speaking with complete honesty. Akane had to know why he was leaving, and had to know it all.

For her part the Tendo girl listened, without question, without argument or spark of anger. Ranma could not recall a pervious instant in their relationship where she had done so. Before it had always been: Pervert, mallet, pain. But now she just watched him, absorbing his words as she gazed at him with those big, shimmering blue eyes. He was uncomfortably aware of his tongue moving as it shaped his words, seeming thick and cumbersome.

" I may be happy now, Akane, but I can't live in quiet. I'm not that kind of guy, and my place as the Anything-Goes School heir will not let me. In the last year Nerima has been a sort of crucible, new fighters and threats testing my skills. But it can't last, even now things are settling into routine. That's not the way I want to live, I need to live life in the fast lane. If Loaf's visit taught me anything, it's that there is a whole world out there to experience. I can't ignore that. Both my duty and my soul scream at me to leave. If I don't do it now, I may never do it, and I just know I'll regret that forever."

" I see," was all she said. The words were barely more then a whisper.

_She's upset. Quick make her see a good side. _Ranma's mind screamed at him as he watched the girl slump. She seemed suddenly fragile, vulnerable as if a touch could break her. 

" And besides," he said with his most friendly, charming grin. " If I stayed our fathers would just make us get married heh heh heh." He forced himself to chuckle lightly.

Akane seemed to sink further, as if a deep crack had broke into her brittle, glasslike demeanour. Her eyes dropped from his, glancing at the hands in her lap as she wrung her fingers against each other. She blinked as if her eyes stung. 

" So you're leaving so that you don't have to marry me." She whispered, her voice small and broken.

Ranma near leaped from his skin. " No. Nononono." He babbled mindlessly as guilt coiled and writhed in his gut. He had said the wrong thing, again. And had made her even more upset. Thing this time was, that he had no idea what he had said wrong _She's upset because you made it seem like you don't want to marry her, you foot-in-the-mouth fool, _one part of his mind answered scathingly. _That has a tendency to insult a girl. _With this newfound answer, he forced his mouth to form coherent sentences and tried to repair his mistake.

" That's not it." He said first then he continued slowly, considering each word so as not to slip up and make the situation worse. " Its just we're seventeen years old. It's too early for me to settle down into marriage, and I'm sure you feel the same."

The words sunk into Akane mind, and she released a small giggle and a sigh. "You're right for once. We are a bit young, I wish that our fathers understood that."

Ranma smiled and nodded in agreement, happy at her change in mood. _Score one for Saotome_, that part of his mind congratulated in satisfaction. 

" How long will you be gone, Ranma?" Akane asked tentatively.

" I don't know. This is not like the other times I left. This time I'm not seeking anything definite, I have no objective other than to learn and to test myself."

" So it could be years." She summarised, her posture slumping and the momentary smile falling for her face as if it weighed a tonne.

"Yeah," he agreed sadly. He could not lie to her. Not now. " But I'll be back, to visit and make sure that you behave your tomboy self." 

Akane brightened at that suggestion, rising up to fix him firmly in the gaze of her wide, cerulean eyes. " You promise, Ranma?" She demanded, grabbing him hard with the glimmering highlights in her irises.

" Of course, too much of importance to me is here to abandon."

She smiled. The gesture lit her face. He could his heart thump in his gesture, his mouth suddenly dry and his throat tightening as the beauty of that smile literally swept his breath away. His mind shut down, thoughts scattering like shards of broken glass as his eyes drank her in. Then as soon as it came, the smile was gone, leaving a void in his chest.

" So when are you going?" She inquired quietly.

" Day after tomorrow. I have some things to take care of first." 

" The fiancés?"

" The fiancés," he agreed. " I can't leave them without any explanation or goodbye."

" You always have done before." She grunted in accusation.

" But not this time. I owe them both that much at least."

" Both?" Akane questioned.

" You think I'm going anywhere near that fruitcake Kodachi?"

" Good point."

Quiet.

" Ranma?"

" Hm?"

" There's nothing I can say that would make you change your mind."

Ranma considered the question. But he knew the answer, and stared guiltily at the carpet. He could not give voice to his rejection, but Akane read it in his eyes. She sighed.

" I thought not. I'm no fighter like Ryoga, I can't understand your need."

Ranma blinked in confusion. " Ryoga," he murmured bemused, wondering what the lost boy had to do with anything at this point in time.

" Well he's a martial artist, and he trains as much as you do. I wished he were here right now. He would know what to say. Like when he came last week. I had asked him to talk to you, cause he would understand you more than I could. "

The dark-haired youth remembered that visit well. Lying in bed while the bandana-clad boy sneered at his weakness and spoke his insults to the injured warrior as he had curled up like a child. That was supposed to be help? 

_Unless?_

He remembered the last time Ryoga had thought him weak. The moxibustion point had sapped his strength by Happosai's cruel design. He had been rescued by Cologne, and the Hiryu Shoten Ha, but the training required a strong enemy. One who would not hold back against him. But until the sight of Akane in torn clothes had sent him into a love driven rage, Ryoga did not have it in him to fight a weakened opponent. Hell, the lost boy had even defended him in his vulnerable state from Kuno and Mousse. Now that he thought about the previous weeks encounter, the scene seemed wrong. Why would Ryoga's attitude to a defeated Ranma have changed so much, unless he had been aiming to enrage Ranma from his depressed, bed-ridden lethargy.

_But the guy is too stupid to use reverse psychology._

Yet, there was no other explanation, and if Ryoga had chosen to help his rival, his pride would only allow him to do so through a veil of aggression. Ranma felt the anger and resentment he had harboured towards the lost martial artist evaporate. The respect and friendship he had once offered as comrades, blossomed again.

" That gives me an idea."

" Huh?" The girl quirked at his sudden statement.

" Nothing." He mumbled.

Another long silence shrouded the room. The two occupants glancing at each other as they racked their brains for something to say. But there was nothing else to be said. Or the consequences of the words were too strong that fear refused to let them out into voice.

" Well I'll see you later Akane. I won't leave without saying goodbye."

Then like a ghost he left the room, and the girl whose hollow heart left a stinging void in her soul.

His room was not empty when he entered it. His mother sat on his futon, waiting for him. The dull light from a small table lamp cast harsh shadows across the side of her face and made the auburn of her hair glow like the dying embers of a fire. Yet in the gloom, her eyes shone brightly as they met the blue-grey orbs of her son.

" Don't try and talk me out of it, Mom," he said before she could raise the expected protest.

" I won't." she replied calmly, with a small smile. " I can see that you are determined to go through with this. And I can understand your reasons, despite my own wishes."

Ranma smiled gratefully, the tension flooding out of him. He had her approval. Now there was nothing to hold him back. 

" However," Nodoka said, steel retuning to her voice. That one words made Ranma's hopes sink and his muscles bunched in tight, suspense.

" I cannot allow you to shirk all of your responsibilities, Ranma." She continued, glaring at the boy in the gloom, as if challenging him to refute.  " If you are to leave, you _must _marry Akane. I cannot in good faith allow you to go without cementing that bond."

Body jerking as if struck, he stepped back, staring at his mother with wide eyes. Then his lids narrowed, his hands balling into white knuckled fists. His jaw tightened as his teeth ground together. Anger was a fire within his breast. He should have expected this!

" Pops put you up to this, didn't he? Him and Mr Tendo." He accused.

" It was my suggestion, although the two of them whole-heartily agreed. If you truly are concerned with your duty to the art, you must obey this,"

Mouth working, he fought down his shock at her admission. Taking in a deep, and mastering his will into steel he gave his reply.

" No!"

" I beg your pardon."

" No," he repeated. " I will not marry Akane, not yet."

Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed as she grimaced, the glare shining from her cerulean eyes cutting through him like a knife. " Ranma!" she snapped furiously. " I am not asking for a discussion. You will marry Akane."

His anger still rolled and gnawed at his belly. He seized onto it, clinging tenaciously to the rage like it was his lifeline, giving him the power to face down the woman who had birthed him. The temptation to give in, to accept so that he could see the smile he loved and had missed so dearly was amassing. But holding onto his pride he fought it down, knowing that he could not allow 

his parents to abuse honour and make his decisions for him.

" I am not discussing anything. I said no!"

" Damn you, Ranma." She spat, shocking him with the curse as it sprung from her prim tongue. " I had hoped I had taught you something. But it seems I was wrong. You cannot be saved if you cannot see what is needed."

" I can see everything crystal clear," he retorted dryly, " It is you that seems to be blind."

" Ranma, how dare you?" she shrieked. " I am your Mother, you will do as I say."

Ranma grunted, the sound was a mixed hybrid of disdainful snort and bitter laugh. " I am doing as you said." He shot back. " Honour, you said is a personal thing; that you could only show me the path, and that I had to walk it. Well how the hell do you expect me to walk it if you insist that I blindly do whatever you say."

Nodoka stiffened, her whole body surging straight as her son flung her own words back in her face. Her mouth twisted as she stared daggers at the dark-haired youth before her. " Then I wonder if you have not lost your way and fallen from the path. Surely you must have plummeted into madness, or stupidity, not to see that this is your duty. The Arts requires that the schools be united."

" The schools are united, if they were ever broken to begin with." Seeing his mother's confused and irritated frown he explained. " The School does not need unifying, as they it has already been made whole, through me. Happosai, Grandmaster of Anything-Goes has already named me his designated heir. As head of the School his word supersedes that of Pop's or Mr Tendo's. I am the successor to the Anything-Goes School as a whole, the Saotome and Tendo Ryu's being subsidiaries become assimilated upon my ascension to Grandmaster when the old pervert croaks."

Nodoka opened her mouth, preparing her protest. Ranma kept on talking, throwing the words out and raising his voice to override any retort. 

" That is if the Tendo Ryu can be called a school. Soun never made any alterations nor brought any new techniques to the syllabus. Nor did Akane. He just taught it as he had learnt it, but without the being chased by hordes of enraged girls or sneaky tactics. Akane, although talented, is no master, nor does she have anything that she could teach me. This engagement is not about. Schools or techniques, it is about the dojo. Somewhere that the old man can rest his lazy butt and mooch from the Tendos as I teach the classes."

" Do not show such disrespect to your father, Ranma. He knows what is best for the school." His mother chastised sternly.

" Can the bull, Mom. You know it's true."

His mother grimaced but remained silent.

" Besides," he said quietly. His voice softened to a reflective whisper. " I can't do that to the others."  

Nodoka seized upon that like vultures at carrion. " So you would rather sacrifice your honour so that you can lead on three other women. You are bound by oath to marry a Tendo. Despite your low opinion of the Tendo School, the inheritance of the dojo still offers the most towards the future of the Art, which is your primary concern."

" DAMN IT I AM NOT A POSSESSION TO BE SOLD TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER." Ranma roared, his face flushing red with anger. Bitterness had welled within him, and now he unleashed the torrent upon his mother, who met his rage with equal fervour.

" DO NOT TAKE THAT TONE WITH ME, YOUNG MAN. YOU MUST DO WHAT HONOUR DEMANDS."

" But it's not just my honour involved is it?" Ranma asked in a voice that dripped with acid. " Shampoo can not return home without obeying the law to marry which as an Amazon she is oath bound to uphold. Her honour as well as her life is forfeit if she breaks that law, and so her honour is entwined with mine. And it was Pops himself who had arranged the engagement with the Kuonji's. The honour of both our families become junk if I break that commitment."

His mother flinched at the mention of her husband's involvement in his relationship with Ukyo. Hand's once again balling at the fabric of her kimono she fixed her son with cold eyes. " Then you must do as duty dictates and enter the union that is most advantageous for the school."

Ranma quirked an eyebrow and allowed a wry smirk to curl his lips. " And that would be to marry Akane."  His tone was full of cocky superiority.

" Of course it is." She snapped, infuriated further by his sudden arrogance. " The Art must have a place in which it is taught. Akane at least offers that. Ramen or okonomiyaki is not of much help in that case." His matched his smirk with a satisfied smile. Ranma's expression never wavered.

" Bricks and mortar, Mom." He said simply. " That's what a dojo when you get down to it. Training halls can be built and can be destroyed. The Art is larger than that; it exists in the spirit and the minds of its practitioners, walls cannot hold it. Dad did not need a dojo to teach me, nor do will I need one to teach my students. The Art is alive within me."

Nodoka gawped, her mouth opened and closed but only a faint squeak could be heard. The barrage of precise logic, on a scale never expected by anyone who new Ranma Saotome, had left her floundering like a fish plucked from the water.

" Ranma, please." was all she could manage, her voice soft and ragged.

" Mother," he soothed, his reaching across to place his hand over hers. " You said it yourself, my duty do the art is first and foremost." He shook his head, slowly and inwardly. " I sat there for hours with those words spinning in my mind, asking my self; _what was my duty to the Art?_ The answer was to master it, to become the best warrior there is. To make the Anything-Goes Style legendary across the globe as the greatest martial art ever devised. It was that revelation that told me to leave on this journey so that I could test and perfect my skills. And it is that what leads me to this problem. 

" You said that I must enter the union that is best for the Art. But that is not as easy as it sounds for they all offer much. Akane is a talented martial artist and a member of the Anything-Goes School herself, and there still is the matter of the dojo. But Ucchan and Shampoo are both superior martial artists. Ucchan is a Master of her own Okonomiyaki style of martial arts, which offers a talented use of weapons as well as an additional means of earning a living. Shampoo is a warrior to the core and her skills far surpass Akane and Ucchan's, other than Ryoga and me, she is probably the best martial artist in town." He sighed, his body sinking and suddenly seeming very weary. " But none of that matters. It may be shameful and selfish, but I cannot marry someone who I don't love."

" That's not good enough, Ranma." His mother said sternly. " You must choose one of them."

" Hey, back off." He snapped back in furious irritation. " It ain't as easy as that. I'm not choosing what I want for dinner, or what movie I want to watch. This is the person I'm to spend the rest of my life with. I'm not like Pop, I don't intend to run out on my wife for a decade or two." His mother quivered and recoiled as if struck, the sudden widening of her eyes revealed a world of hurt in those blue irises.

Ranma stomped down on his guilt as his twanged as his gut, and continued in a soft, reasoning voice. " Mom, I'm only Seventeen years old. Too young to marry; too young to even know what love is. And so is Akane. She has too much going for her, and should get to decide her own path in life, rather than be forced in to an early jaunt down the aisle and a life of housekeeping and dojo running. She wants more than that, and I want more for her. Besides, I am leaving in two days. I cannot just get married, and leave whoever I wed behind."

" Then take her with you." Nodoka protested sharply. 

Ranma shook his head. " I can't this is something I must do myself. I pledged to you that I would become a man, and this journey will make me into one. I will not marry until that has happened, nor until I know for certain that this is the one I will love all of my life."

Nodoka lips pursed into a tight line and her eyes narrowed. " I can understand that, Ranma, but I cannot accept it. You have been promised to Akane, end of discussion."

Ranma rose to the challenge, as he always did. " You may not accept it, Mother, and I wish that you could. But you can not stop it either."

" That is true," she conceded, her voice was soft yet razor sharp. She rose to her feet and passed by her son as she slipped from the room. When she reached the door, she glanced over her shoulder and sent Ranma a piercing glare out of the corner of her eye.

" You said that this journey should make a man of you." She said imperiously. " We shall see just what kind of man." And with that she glided away.

Ranma sighed. Pangs were shooting through his chest as he leaned on the windowsill and gazed outward at the stars. He had hated that conversation, as he had the one in the living room. Arguing with his mother was like twisting a knife in the wound that had bee left by ten years without her. Seeing the blatant disappointment in her eyes had been torture, making him feel low, a deep, hollow sinking in his heart. But it had to be done. For once Ranma Saotome refused to be wishy-washy. He had made up his mind and was sticking to it. And staring up at the night sky, he challenged the stars themselves to stop him.

To be continued 

AN- So now we get to the point that I've been building up to for the past 9 chapters. Yes Ranma is leaving Nerima, and you all probably find it about as unexpected as the plot of Sailor Moon, i.e. not at all. How many times do expect a new fighter to wander through Nerima?

And about Happosai, and the whole honour thing. Should I get ready to dodge rotten fruit and broken glass?  Yes I know Happosai is OOC but I think that he's not as evil as he seems, just perverted. I also think that he does care about the future of the School, after all he did found it.  Also I hope no-one lynches me for the heir stuff, but Happosai did say that he would teach Ranma to carry on his school, and I think a Grandmaster's heir is superior to the heir of a man like Genma. And I've never actually seen Soun acknowledge Akane as his heir, just as brood mare.

I got mixed opinions about the honour theme, I hope this chapters reassures people that Honour does not mean a loss of will. Honour is an important theme in martial arts (and Ranma) and one that I think merits exploration, what you are reading is my own way of seeking the place of honour in the modern world ( if there is one). But if some people are still not happy about it, tough. I can't please everyone, and you can't read a fic called HONOUR and pride and not expect to read about honour.

Fiancés, why haven't I chosen one and got some romance started? I'm getting there, this is going to be a long fic, I have three years to work on this. So be patient, and I haven't chosen one because I want to keep you guessing which one Ranma will get with, if any? But you are all right this story is getting a bit dark (when did I last write something funny?), hopefully it wont last, just the flow of the story. But I admit to being a born pessimist so I may not be able to write happy.

On a happy note, Honour and Pride has a home on the net. Thanks to Larry F for giving me a space at the lost library of Florestica. And hi to all the new readers there, (I live off of reviews). I'm kind of nervous because the site has a lot of great authors featured (like D.B Sommer) so my humble tale won't match up. The site will feature all the chapters (grammatically correct and with the cast f*ck up cured). And if I can ever get hold of a scanner I may add some illustrations of the scenes in the fic, and would like to see what anyone has pictured in their mind.     

Cheers 

Beer-monster.

                              

       

****


	10. Hard Partings

Honour And Pride By Beer-Monster Book I: The Mantis Saga _Chapter Ten: Hard Partings_

_Parting is all we know of heaven,_

_And all we need of hell._

Emily Dickinson 

The water spat and burbled in the pot, steam billowing in pale, hazy clouds that rose and condensed on the ceiling. The bubbling of the hot liquid was just one of the many sources of the noise and heat that filled the kitchen. The ovens hummed and the flames on the stove and grills fluttered. Knives thumped rhythmically against the chopping boards, and occasionally the shrill whine of the blender pierced the air as tomatoes and other ingredients were liquefied to be turned into sauce. An old, beaten radio sat on a shelf amongst plastic bowls and colanders, warbling out a bouncy and chirpy pop tune amongst crackles of static.

Shampoo tossed a dishful of noodles into the boiling water to soften, then raked a hand through her glossy, lavender locks. She waved away the steam and moved swiftly away from the pot, sure that too much steam would ruin her complexion. 

" Shampoo, the wontons are ready for table six," her Grandmother called across the room, indicating the golden, pastry parcels on the tray held in Mousse's hands. The Chinese boy wobbled as he set the tray down, almost dropping it as he squinted through glasses fogged by steam. " Yes, Grandmother." She replied and put the wontons on to the plate that had been readied with a dish of dipping sauce and a small garnishing salad. Taking up the plate, and a bowl heaped with spiced ramen, she quickly fixed on her polite, vacant, 'waitress smile' and backed through the door into the restaurant. 

She placed the two dishes before the pair of power-lunching businessmen, ignoring the lingering gazes of both men as they passed over her firm bosom and rear, framed perfectly by the silk of her red blouse. It was something that she had gotten used to. Japanese men; for all their reservations, did not seem to know about subtlety. Nor did the women; who responded to their partners' appreciative gazes with angry stares towards the source of the distraction. That bothered Shampoo, a little more. She knew the women of Japan thought her a slut, and that she wore her clothes in a deliberate attempt to tease men. That was not true, she simply liked the feel of silk upon her skin. It was the materials fault that it did much to accentuate her figure. It did bring in the tips however, and the life of a teenage girl was not cheap. Besides why should she not feel flattered by the men's interest, it made her feel feminine and sexy, and what was wrong with that? 

They could look, but not touch. Several alcohol and hormone fuelled lechers had found that out the hard way. Broken fingers healed badly! But only one man was aloud to touch her.

_Ranma._

As if summoned by the yearning in her heart that awoke whenever she thought of him, the man she knew to be her soul mate entered the restaurant. He flowed through the door, with the poise of trained grace, her heart melted within her chest. He was beautiful. The lights of the restaurant glimmered across the satin of his shirt and disappeared in to the black of his hair. His blue-grey eyes shone beneath the dark bangs that dusted his brows. He quickly located her and he greeted her with a small friendly smile. When his gaze settled upon her, there was a spark in the depths of his irises while his pupils widened. His eyes seemed to be drinking in the sight of her.

Shampoo could feel a giddy, girlish joy suffuse her entire being. Her soul seemed to be resonating inside of her, shimmering and glowing. She moved across to him, telling herself firmly that Amazon warriors did not skip, no matter how glad they were, or how perfect their husband. 

" Ranma, come to see Shampoo?" she beamed. Smiling broadly she enveloped him in her arms. She prepared herself for the rejection, the flurried babbling and hasty attempts to pry her off of him. Each time was a small blow to her confidence, but it was worth it just to hold him for a moment. Yet it did not come. Instead Ranma hands went to her sides and held them, and for a brief moment she swore she felt him hug back. But then he pushed her away, so gently and looked her in the eyes.

" Shampoo, can we talk for a moment."

Shampoo was torn in two. One half of her was exultant with joy; Ranma had come to see her. Not to con a free meal or to beg teaching from her grandmother, but to speak to her. The other part of her was curious and scared, as Ranma's voice had seemed unnervingly empty.

" Of course, Ranma. We go to Shampoo's room."

She leaned over and took his hand in her leading him through the restaurant. She heard the male customers grumble at her obvious affection for the youth, one of them muttering curses about ' pigtailed pretty boys'. Shampoo barely noticed absorbed with the wonderful fact that Ranma's hand seemed to fit hers perfectly.

" Grandmother, I take break. I talk with Ranma." She told the old women who hopped around the kitchen on her gnarled staff.

Cologne turned, and regarded the two of them. Her thin eyebrow quirked at the sight of their clasped hands; but changed as she looked at Ranma. The matriarch stared at the dark-haired martial artist with a long, measuring glare. And Ranma met her ancient eyes fully. Then finally he nodded, a reply to some hidden, unspoken question.

" We're not too busy, so take as much time as you need dear." Cologne said with a smile at her great-granddaughter. " Besides I can get Mr Part-time here to earn his keep." She added with a nod at Mousse.

The blind boy jerked upright from where his hands were buried to the elbows in filthy dishwater. And growled at a shelf of cook utensils. 

" You expect me to stand aside and let that bastard Ranma go into Shampoo's room alone, where he could molest her at any time." He cried.

" No fool, I expect you do stop wasting time and do some work." Cologne snapped. " That's after all what I am paying you for."

" You don't pay me a yen."

" That's because you do nothing to earn it, now hurry up with those pots. While Shampoo and son-in-law chat, you will have to cover for her, and try not to get the male customers mixed up with the female like before, you blind fool."

Mousse muttered darkly beneath his breath, the few words that Shampoo caught demonstrated a wide knowledge of the coarser expletives in the Mandarin language. But the sadistic side of her nature rose and would not let her leave the room without adding a swift kick to Mousse's fragile ego.

" You forget, Mousse, Ranma is real man and can do whatever he want to Shampoo. I know he do it well." It had the desired effects and Mousse as the boys face flushed red and his speech was reduced to angry spluttering. But it was not just for Mousse. She snuck a sidelong glance at Ranma, whose cheeks were also reddened but through an embarrassed blush. She winked at him and his face glowed like a sunset and he stared suddenly at the ceiling. Well she had to try, and she never had been one for the subtle approach. And own desire would not allow it. Even now, seeing the conflicting cuteness of his blush and masculine bunching of his muscles beneath his shirt seemed very erotic. There were times she wanted him so much it hurt. 

She wanted his body. His heart. His everything. 

In a land far from the home she loved, where the populace thought her little more than another unwanted gaijin. It was the only thing that gave her the strength to stand at all.

" Erm…Shampoo?" Ranma tapped her gently on the shoulder, shaking her from her reverie.

" Oh. Right. I sorry. I miles away." _And it was very nice._ "We go talk in room now."

Taking his hand again she continued on the way, ascending the narrow wooden stairs that led above the restaurant to the humble living quarters. Once again even such minute contact sent ripples of electricity through her. As they walked, she wondered what it was that he wanted to say. She had hopes, that it would be those three little words she yearned for. But she could not guess. Ranma was often full of surprises. And besides she was no Seer, she did not know what the future would bring. All she knew was that Ranma was with her now, and that was enough to know that she would make it through whatever fate cast at her.

When they reached the room, she tried to lead him to the bed, the conniving part of her brain orchestrating a plan of sit, snuggle then sex. But Ranma blushed a scarlet sunset as he thought of the two of them on the bed together, and wrenched his hand away as if it burned. It was all Shampoo could do not to let her disappointment and hurt show, but still she could feel her lips pursing. 

" What Ranma want?" She asked, perhaps a bit harshly.

" Um…well." He fumbled; his eyes scanned the room, glancing over every object and refusing to meet her own. " You see…I…we…"

" Ranma, you is babbling." Shampoo. 

" I am not ba…" His angry protest trailed off weakly as he realised that he was indeed babbling. Then he collapsed to into a sigh, shoulders drooping. He muttered something beneath his breath that she could not make out, and clenched his fists. Raising his head to meet her gaze he dropped his bomb.

" Shampoo, I'm leaving Nerima."

Her heart lurched, but she fought it down and instead let her curiosity pique. She appraised him thoughtfully, dimly aware of her eyebrow rising. He watched her keenly, through narrowed eyes, gauging her reaction and bracing himself against it.

" Why?" She asked.

" I have to go and test my skills in the world." He answered, still watching her response wearily. He seemed mildly surprised when she just nodded, which in turn seemed odd to Shampoo. He had obviously thought she would protest, but why would she? She was a warrior, she knew well the need for continual tests and challenges in the life of a martial artist and found his desire to seek new horizons admirable, and quite sexy.

" Okay, Ranma." She said happily, smiling broadly.

Moving swiftly she opened her wardrobe; grabbed an empty but expansive travel pack and threw it onto her bed. It was soon joined by a rolled-up sleeping bag, several sets of loose but comfortable clothes (nothing too fine; after all she would be fighting a lot), several bras, and her favourite sword the metal of the broad, curved blade sparkled in the light from the window.

Ranma had not moved during this maelstrom of clothes and fabric. He still stood, ramrod straight, gawping as she fumbled through clothes and weaponry, mumbling to herself about food supplies and sanitary pads. Finally he swallowed and spoke.

" Shampoo, you're not coming with me." 

She stiffened, jerking upright before turning slowly to face the pig-tailed boy.

" What?" She asked blandly.

" You can't come with me."

" Shampoo must come with you, Shampoo is wife." She declared firmly. She knew it would not work, he had been denying their marriage as a back-water, nonsense custom for years, why stop now. But she had to try. Try to make him see that to her, it was something far greater than blind obedience to law. _Just make him agree. Oh dear spirits; make him agree. Don't let him leave me._

The spirits of her ancestors either were not listening, or were choosing to spite her. Ranma simply frowned, his face hardening to a granite carving of firm resolve.

" No, Shampoo." he said. " I'm going alone."

Her heart did not lurch this time; it tore apart. As if someone had thrust a sword through her breast and twisted it savagely. She did not notice her knees buckles as if reduced to water, or the bounce of springs as she fell numbed onto the bed. Her whole mind was focussed on stopping the tears that welled in her eyes. But she failed, and she felt them run hot down her cheeks.

" Shampoo, you can't come with me." He said again.

" I hear you first time," She near screamed at him, berating herself a weakling to let a man do this to her. To remember her training as a warrior not to let her emotions run wild. But this was not just any man. Nor were they just any emotions, or just any tears. She knew he had repeated himself because he thought she was crying in attempt to get make him let her join him. Not this time, this time these were real tears and she could not make them stop.

She watched her dreams of the future shatter and fall, like the shards of a broken mirror. All her hopes broke, tumbling away the pieces slipping through her fingers and cutting. The hope of sharing the rest of her life with him. The vision of the home that they would build together, the children they would have. The wish that when she drew her last breath, she would die with him, together, held in each others arms.    

Suddenly he was there, squatting on his haunches and looking in her eyes. His visage wavered through as her eyes welled. He was still heart-achingly handsome. She hated that, why could he not for once look ugly? Why did he have to be so beautiful when he left her? 

" C'mon, Shampoo." He said softly, gently nudging her shoulder. " Surely you can get around that law somehow."

Anger sparked through her. Law! He still through that this was all because of a stupid law? _The audacity of the man _

_knows no bounds,_ she thought. At that moment she wondered if the jerk had a heart, if he could casually dismiss her ardour as the product of tradition. Her hand rose, before she could stop it, and swung with all her strength at his face. Not that she tried to stop it; he deserved it. Ranma saw the blow coming and braced his self, but he did not move, obviously agreeing with her.

The fist stopped the width of a hair from his cheek, halting of its own volition. Her fingers uncurled, and pressed gently against his skin. She ran her touch down the contours of his face, delighting in the feel of him. She reached his chin and gently tilted his face up so that she could lock her gaze with his. She stared into the depths of his eyes, watching them as they changed from watery blue to a hazy grey as they light took them. The colour of the mountain mist as it meets the sea. Her hand started stroking his face again, brushing the bangs from his face.

" Ranma," she said softly. " Shampoo say she love you many time. What I do to make you believe Shampoo?" The question was directed inwardly as much as at the boy in front of her.

" Shampoo…" He started, his voice quavering audibly. She pressed her fingers to his lips.

" No. Ranma listen." She told him. " You is one for Shampoo. You is only one for Shampoo. Not care about law. Only care about Ranma. Love Ranma, not old law. Would love Ranma without law, whether wrong or right. Shampoo hope love Ranma all Shampoo life.

" If it only law Shampoo would not have stay in Nerima. Would not be crying on bed. Would not dream of day you make Shampoo wife. Ranma name would not resound in Shampoo head and heart. You is one."

" Shampoo. You can't say that. I can't say that." He replied, breathless and shaken. " I'm a fool. I care about you, and the others, deeply but I don't even know what love is."

"She looked into his eyes again, and forced a small smile. " You go then. You travel and seek honour. And when you know what love is being. You come back for Shampoo." 

" But what if…"

" No!" She cried, her voice breaking as emotion consumed her. Grabbing hold of his shirt she pulled him to her. She seized his eyes with her own; that were filled with watery tears yet blazed with fiery passion. " You no say that you no pick Shampoo. You no say that you pick another. It not happen." She was aware of the shrill, desperate sound of her own ragged voice. But she did not care. She had to make him see. " You is one for Shampoo. You is made for Shampoo, and I is made for you. If not then why does heart tell Shampoo that is. You come back for Shampoo."

Unable to take it the strain of her passions roaring through her soul she collapsed into against Ranma's chest. His arms came around her slowly, tentatively as if he were unsure what he was supposed to do with them. But even so Shampoo exhilarated in the sensation of being wrapped in his arms, and listened to his heart beat in his chest.

" Can Ranma not stay? Is any way that Shampoo can stay with Ranma, in Ranma arms?"

He inhaled deeply; she could feel his chest expand against her, then sighed. " No, Shampoo." He said sadly.

Shampoo nodded, she had known the answer even as she asked the question. She pressed herself tighter against his chest to smother a sob. He gave her a gentle squeeze and then unwound his arms from her. 

She held on though, hugging him close. " Two month Ranma. Shampoo give you two month and if I no see you, I come find you. I promise." Then she let go of him too.

Rising smoothly to his feet, he brushed himself off and backed away, turning to seize the door handle. Looking back over his shoulder he smiled at her, a warm and sincere grin. 

" I'll be stopping by from time to time, so I'll see you later, Shampoo."

Shampoo smiled back, her tears halting She once again looked like her usual, confident and outgoing self. Beaming at him she raked a hand through her lavender hair and waved.

" Yes, you be back to choose Shampoo. Or Shampoo come to you." She promised solemnly.

Ranma just kept on smiling and slipped out of the door.

Shampoo fell back and curled up on her bed. The tears returned and she could not gather the strength to stop them. She felt numb and breathless. He had only just gone through the door. But he was gone. She did not know when she would see him again. She may have promised to search for him, but that was no guarantee that she would find him. It was that unsure doubt that hurt her deeply, much more than the simple fact that he was gone. Her body and soul ached without the comfort that she could see him everyday, just by riding over to the Tendo's with a bowl of ramen. And one question still remained.

How was she to find the strength to stand each day?

Ranma closed the door behind it and sagged against it. He felt tired and he ached all over, as if he had been used as Ryoga's personal punch bag. That had gone much worse than he had ever feared, the whole ordeal had been torture, as if his soul had been set onto the rack and pulled until it popped apart at the seams. Shampoo he had thought would be the easy one, just a couple of threats of violence, some beating with a large melon-hammer before a swift run from some love potion. He had not expected the girl to just collapse like that, as if he had sucked the air form her lungs and the blood from her veins.

" What's wrong, son-in-law?" asked an age-thinned voice. Cologne hopped from the shadows, her withered face blank and firm. " You seem surprised."

_Shit! Now I'm in for it._

" You know? You heard?" Was all he said.

" That you're leaving, yes I know. But I only caught the last part of your little drama." She looked behind him at the door, staring as if she could see past the chipped paint to the room's heart-broken occupant. " Quite a passionate one isn't she?" She asked.

Ranma gave a mute grunt in response, glancing back at the wood panels of the portal he leant against. There was nothing he could think to say; his brain seemed functionless.

" Hmm. You didn't know?" She asked, a gnarled lip curling up into a smile. She seemed amused, and her tone was layered with acerbic smugness.

Ranma glared back. How could the old bat find this funny? " Didn't know what?" He growled back.

" I see that you are as naive and as blind as everyone takes you for." The matriarch muttered, with a sorrowful shaking of her head. Ranma's felt his eyes narrow and his frown deepen. Was he being made sport of?

" The girl is in love with you; and quite blindly too. I've heard of head over heel but this is quite worse, more a case of arse over elbow in love." She chuckled to herself, a sound like crumbling leaves. " My poor Grand daughter never saw it coming, and it hit her right between the eyes. I doubt there is a beat in her heart that isn't for you."

Ranma slumped against the door once again, sliding onto his bottom, sitting with his legs crooked before him as he stared and the floor panels. His head hung, the dark bangs hiding his eyes and his braid, dangling limp over his shoulder.

" I…I…" His mouth gawped and his throat bunched as he strove for the words. " I didn't know. I thought it was just because of…" He trailed off, the air full of an eerie vacancy.

"  The law." She finished for him, and he nodded dumbly.

" Months ago you would have been right. She was thought she was doing what any good Amazon would, hunting her new husband and strengthening the tribe. She kept on bragging about how handsome and strong you were, and how the others of the tribe would be so envious of her. But as time wore on the mentioned less and less about her Amazon sisters and less and about bragging, but she never stopped talking about you; always Ranma this, and Ranma that.  Shampoo had fallen in love with you from the start, and she never realised it, until one day it hit her like a freight train."

" Why…?" Ranma murmured. " I thought I would just be a trophy husband."

" Don't be absurd." Cologne spat. " If you were just a to be eye-candy for the sisters would I have taught you as much as I have. To any other Amazon you would be, but I am not so stupid as to waste your talent and skills as a trophy. Nor do I train my heirs to think as such."

" Then why are you not trying to stop me going?" Ranma cried, springing to his feet, suddenly suspicious of the old woman. " Or is this the part when you douse me with one of you potions?"

Cologne vaulted upwards, used her staff to bash the youth's pigtailed cranium, and landed smoothly back astride the gnarled stick.

" Don't try my patience with your insolence, boy." She snapped. 

Ranma rubbed at the rapidly growing welt and glared daggers at the old woman, mumbling various, choice curses beneath his breath.  

" I know the reason why you are leaving, in fact I have expected this for some time, even more so after the fiasco at Phoenix Mountain. I also whole-heartedly welcome your decision. All those who dedicate their lives to the martial arts must seek others like themselves, to test their skills and develop new ones. How do you think I met that irresponsible pervert Happy in his youth? No Ranma, I feel this trip will make you much greater martial artist than any number of trained techniques. A thousand travel guides are never worth a real journey, and even were I to take you as my apprentice and teach you all the arts I know, you still would not have the experience befitting a true master."

" Besides." She smiled warmly, the corners of her mouth creasing loosely. " I have faith in my Granddaughter's heart. If she 

says that you shall return to choose her then I believe her."

Ranma chuckled. It never would end would it. Then again he would probably be bored if it did. Pulling himself to his feet he bowed before the wise, old matriarch and walked past her to the stairs. Cologne allowed him past and then hopped over to Shampoo's door, reaching for the handle.

" Hey, old ghoul. I just wanted to say…well…y'know."

" Your welcome, son-in-law." The smile never faded.

In the kitchen Ranma was greeted by Mousse. The Chinese boy squinted through his huge lenses before recognising the pigtailed youth and trying to muster some dignity. He pushed his glasses up his forehead so that he could give Ranma a look of pure venom with his naked eyes. Standing tall, he stood composed as he glared, hands hidden with the folds of the opposite sleeve. 

" You hurt her, haven't you." It was not really a question, and Ranma could not help but wonder how the blind boy knew. He answered anyway, truthfully.

"  Yes." 

" You bastard," Mousse snarled, hands withdrawing a large scimitar from the folds of his robe. He swung the weapon overhead and brought it down in a deadly arc of glittering steel.

Which passed exactly through the air in which Ranma's head had formerly occupied. Side-stepping swiftly, Ranma swerved around the descending blade then struck his hand out, flashing like a serpent to grab the blind boys throat and haul him forwards where he could fix him with venomous eyes. 

" I'm leaving you, blind idiot, and for some reason she seems devastated." Ranma told Mousse, who responded with a derisive snort at the perceived arrogance. " She is already hurt, and now what she need is a friend. Not your usual 'Shampoo I love you' bullshit. That would just hurt her more, and if I hear that you have I'll hunt you down and roast you alive."

Ranma shoved the Amazon male to the tiled floor and walked past, allowing his gaze to soften.

" Take care of her, Mousse." He said simply, and walked away, barely hearing Mousse's reply.

" I will. Good luck, Saotome."

The disc of batter spun and tumbled through the air, the blend of torsion and centripetal forces distorting its malleable shape as it flew. It continued spinning throughout its descent, landing finally with a wet splat against the hot plate. The sound of frenzied sizzling soon followed, as it was smoothed back into perfect, circular form by the soft scraping of a steel spatula.

Ukyo rubbed the sweat and condensed steam from her brow with the back of her forearm, and sighed. Business was slow today, only a handful of people sat in the chairs and booths of the Ucchan, chatting and devouring their okonomiyaki. Konatsu stood by the counter, adding a swift retouch to his lipstick and preening his hair in its cute bun. He occasional stole worshipping glances at Ukyo when he thought she wasn't looking. He also watched her make the okonomiyaki, admiring and learning her techniques. But still mostly he watched her.

Ukyo wished he wouldn't do that. But she knew she could not stop him, nor could she stop herself giving those same adoring looks to Ranma. Nor could she stop Shampoo or Akane doing so. It was not his fault that he had captured all three of their hearts and walked with them in his pocket, but she still wished she could blame him. Just a little; to make her self feel better.

" Why's it dead in here?" A voice asked suddenly.

Ukyo looked at the questions source and found herself staring straight into a pair of bewitching, morning sky eyes that looked back affectionately through thick, black bangs.

" Hey, Ucchan." Ranma smiled, Ukyo willed her knees not to turn to jelly. The fight was not so difficult as she noticed that his smile seemed kind of crooked, wavering as if strained. 

" What's up, Ranchan?" She asked in concern.

Ranma started, flinching as if slapped. " Nothing's wrong, Ucchan, w…what made you ask that?" He glanced nervously around the restaurant, eyes flickering from place to place a panicked wolf. " So…why is this place so quiet." He asked again, replacing the wavering grin.

" Just a slow day," she sighed. Then fixed him with a stern glare from the corners of her eyes. " Don't try to change the subject, Ranchan. What's wrong."

The smile slipped weakly from the youth's lips and he sighed, the sound seeming to let all of the air from him as he withered into a stool, pulling himself up to the counter with a listless lack of effort.

" I never could get much past you, Ucchan." He said sadly.

" No, not really," she agreed. " But it never once stopped you trying." 

A real smile curved his mouth; a small gesture, barely a curve of his lips. But it was there. And just as quick it was gone.

" It was fun at first." He said, voice fading into the baritone of nostalgia. " I'd sneak up behind you and jump out yelling boo, or some such. You used to be a big scaredy…uh…thing."

" Hey I was six at the time." She protested, enjoying the trip down memory lane but wondering where it was leading.

" You used to jump out of your skin. It was so funny! I always ended up rolling about, laughing my guts up. Then you would hit me with your spatula."

" You deserved it." She harrumphed, indignantly.

" Probably, but it was still funny." Ranma said, his voice low and sorrowful. His were rooted to the counter, as if trying to find a hideaway in the cracks between the small, square tiles. 

" Ranchan, just tell me, what's on your mind." She implored.

" I was just remembering the old days." He said.

And then she knew.    

" You're leaving." She said in a broken voice. " Aren't you?"

 _Don't say you want to go. Please! _She begged mentally, knowing it was futile. 

He nodded and something inside Ukyo shattered.

"How'd you guess?" He asked.

Stuffing the hurt down into a muted ball, she allowed herself to slip back into memories of childhood days.

" Y'know those good old days, you spoke of."  Ranma made no reaction, but she knew he was listening, intently. " You would stand at the top of the hill as your dad lumbered up, shouting your challenge. I would stand ready, my small spatula before me, and then you would charge down, defeat me easily, and get another free okonomiyaki. And then we would talk while we ate. Not that I got to say much, you always did have to be the centre of attention." Ranma glanced upwards indignantly, but did not protest. " But I did listen. And you always talked about you and your dad, and all the places you had been. Where you had trained, what you had seen, and you were always full of such wonder. It was the dream of a foolish, young girl to think that I could ever get you to settle down. You were a wanderer, I came to realise that over the ten years I had to plot my revenge. I had hoped you would change while you stayed in Nerima, but once again that was the hope of a girl who let her heart rule her head."

" Ucchan…I…" He started, before pausing wordlessly. What was there to say?

" Don't bother making excuses, Ranma." She snapped. " You're leaving. What else is there to say? You going to go gallivanting off, for some great martial arts purpose."

" So you won't try to stop me?" He asked softly.

" What? Do you expect me to get down on my knees and beg you to stay? Arrogant jerk!" She spat. Then with a sigh, she let the anger drain from her. " No Ranchan. If you really want to leave I won't try to stop you."

The thought did not console Ranma, who just stared at her intently with those damned, blue-grey eyes of his. Eyes that she could feel herself drowning in, hurriedly she pulled away.

" So where will you go?" She asked, desperate to fill the silence.

" I don't know yet, maybe China. But I will be back from time to time." She could hear the warmth in his voice in those last words. He was trying to console her, trying to make her seem it was better than it was. Being gentle, like he was when he called her cute and made her fall in love with him for the second time. _Bastard!_

" But you don't know when" It was not a question; she already knew the answer. But he shook his head in reply anyway.

" That's the problem, Ranma."

His whole demeanour seemed to crumble; he knew he had lost this battle. Shoulders slumping, he stared at the counter, hair falling across his brow and hiding his eyes. 

" I…I" He swallowed deeply, before forcing the words out in a hurried sigh. " I don't know what to say." An admission of defeat.

" Maybe it's better you don't say anything."  Ukyo said quietly, barely more than a whisper. " You'd better just go, Ranma." She prayed that her voice did not sound as broken as her heart.

" Ucchan?" His voice sounded scared, and more than a little hurt.

" Just go, Ranma," She said again, refusing to look at him for fear she would lose herself in his eyes. She stared down at her grill, clenching her fists by her side.

There was silence; the customers had stopped eating. Ranma had stopped moving. Her heart had stopped beating. The unearthly quiet was deafening, crashing in her mind like the roar of thunder.

Then she heard his chair scrape along the floor tiles. Forcing herself to look up she watched his retreating form, only seeing the glistening silk of the shirt on his back as his braid bobbed and swayed between his shoulder blades.

It was then that she allowed her herself to breakdown.

_Don't turn around! Don't turn around._

" Goodbye, Ucchan."

The words pierced her like a spear. The bell chimed as the door opened and closed, but it tone was not high and merry. Never before had the simple ringing sounded so much like a dread, final tolling. And it tolled for her. Her knees buckled, as the strength fled her body. She thudded to the hard floor, but the pain did not register. Ranma had gone.

Then Konatsu was there, and people surrounded her. The effeminate ninja took her into his arms, fingers stroking through her chestnut locks. The customers surrounded her, all speaking all asking questions. Did she want anything? Would she be all right? Offering reassurances: there's plenty more fish in the sea, you'll find someone else, he was a bastard anyway, he didn't deserve you.

All Ukyo could do was cry.

 Moonlight sliced through the curtains piercing the gloom like a sliver spear. The light rendered everything in harsh contrast of white highlights and black shadows. In such light the room's humdrum contents shone with ethereal illusion.

Akane lay on her bed. Her eyes open wide as she stared unblinking at the ceiling. Sleep would not come, and she hoped it never did. If she slept, morning would come all the sooner and Ranma's departure with it. So she lay there, tossing and turning uncomfortably as she refused the sleeps advances. Each incremental tick of her Hello Kitty clock resounded deafeningly in her mind, counting off the seconds.

Part of her told her she was being stupid. Why should she care what the perverts jerk was doing, or where he was going? But Akane was alone now, in the dark, she did not have to listen to that voice. That was the voice of a little girl scared of her own feelings and the changes that came with them. A frightened child who clung to the safety of routine and programmed actions: deny, yell, mallet.

But now it was too late for such foolish antics. The two of them had come so far. Changed from two stubborn children rebelling against a forced engagement and angry at one another. What they had become, she did not know, but it was _something. _Something she wanted to hold on to, that had become so imbedded part of her life she did not want to let it go. But Ranma seemed determined to throw it all away.

_Idiot! _The voice spat, and not for the first time tonight.

How could he leave her? After everything they have gone through together. She had always believed that adversity only made the bond between two souls stronger. That was how it worked wasn't it? The anime and stories she had watched and read held such sweet promises, and she had believed them. But why had her and Ranma not been bound to each other. They had been through so much; crazed suitors, kidnapping princes, conniving Amazons, Jusendo.

The memories of that terrible place blasted through her mind. Being enveloped in a wall of flames and then fighting her way through what seemed to be an endless veil of darkness. Feeling strong arms wrapping themselves around her, stroking her hair and her face. Then came voice, awkwardly fighting for words but sounding beautiful to her blurred hearing. " I love you, Akane." She swore that she had heard him say it; Ranma had said those wonderful words. But still, he was leaving. He had told her he loved her and then it was over, dashing her hopes that both he and his love would stay forever.

She had had it. With a determined growl she bolted upright and swung her legs out of bed. She was going to talk to the moron and convince him to stay. And stay he would, if he knew what was good for him.

Moving swiftly on the tips of her toes (not wanting any eavesdroppers), she went into Ranma's room. Taking deep breaths and forcing down the frantic fluttering of her heart, she inched the door open and slid into the room.

As in her own room, the pale moonlight rendered all in beautiful shades of silver and shade. Her eyes immediately went to the centre of the room, two the pair of bulky, blanket covered shapes. The forms moved as they breathed in time two the sawing snores that were emitted in tandem form both sleepers. One set in particular was a series of guttural inhuman growls.

_Damn it_ She swore. _Forgot about Mr Saotome. _She shot a dagger-like glare at the slumbering panda, as she hoped that he would prove as hard to arouse as usual and sleep throughout her plan. 

She knelt next to the smaller of the forms. Watching the serene expression on her fiancés face as he dreamed. Did he dream of her? She wondered. 

Her hand moved without conscious though, smoothing the bangs from his brow and tracing a tender touch across his cheek.

His eyes snapped open; in the shadows cast by the moon his irises' were a deep, Prussian blue. He blinked rapidly and then squinted through the gloom, adjusting his vision to the darkness.

" Akane?" He asked through a muffled yawn.

" Ranma." 

" What are you doing here?"

What was she doing there? Her goal had seemed so clear, until she had looked into his eyes. Now her voice failed her. She wanted him to stay, but could not think of the words to say to convince him. She did not understand why she could not speak, or why she wanted him to stay, so badly. She did not understand why he was leaving; she did not understand any of it.

" Um…" was the best that she could do.

" C'mon, Akane, I'm leaving early tomorrow. Let me sleep."

" Stay."

" Huh!" She could see the boy before her blink rapidly in confusion. She could not fight down her own surprise. The word had leapt from her mouth before she had even thought of it, rising up from her stomach and into the tense air.

" Ranma, stay." She glanced down, watching her hands wring his blanket, unable to meet his stare. " You don't have to leave."

" Akane, you know I do."

" Why? Is it really so bad here. Am I that uncute?"

" Don't be stupid, Akane. This has nothing to do with you." Ranma protested.

" Then why are you leaving? Whatever soul searching you need to do, can't it be done here? Surely you don't hate it here that much? We've had some good times haven't we?"

They had been blessed with some brilliant moment amidst the fights and the chaos. The memories of those times returned to haunt her, echoing through her mind like restless ghosts. Remembering sitting in the dark attic, too frightened to face him, heart pounding in her ears as he unwrapped the scarf she had struggled to knit for him. Then watching him wear that beautiful smile as he wrapped the holey length of ragged wool about his neck. Watching the awestruck expression on his face as he saw her in her wedding dress, hearing the word " beautiful" slip through his lips before he knew he had said it, and the warm thrill it sent through her. Time like that arose like phantoms; spectres of a different time, where one word, one look could have changed everything.

But she had never given that look. No she had hit, punted and malleted him. Ruining everything, because all that she did around him seemed to go wrong. Her cooking was a catastrophe, her attempts to train with him made her angry and insult him, everything.

" Don't be stupid, Akane." Ranma chided. " This has nothing to do with you."

" Of course it does, you wouldn't want to leave if you were happy here." She said; unwilling to look at him she concentrated on keeping her voice from breaking. " If I could cook…or didn't hit you or…" Anyone of a thousand other things she had done to keep Ranma away, afraid of her own feelings.

 " Enough!" Ranma snapped. " Just because our parents engaged us doesn't mean that everything in my life is somehow connected to you. I told you, I'm doing this because it has to be done."

" Why does it?" She spat back. " You are already a superb martial artist. Why do you have to go and loaf around the world to prove it?"

" Damn it Akane, why can't you understand. This is not about my ego. This is not about our engagement, or any of the multiple suitors we both have. This is not about you being kidnapped by enamoured princes. It's not about stupid promises made by my old man, or stupider laws of some crazed Chinese tribe. This isn't even about my curse. It's about honour; it's about my life. I'm doing this because it needs to be done. I'm leaving because it's time to leave. For once I'm doing the right thing on my own, not because of rivals, or fiancés, or any other of the wacky circumstances that force me to act. I have to find my own path, what the Way of the Warrior truly means. I have to prove myself worthy to be the heir of the Anything-Goes School, and the Anything-Goes School had to prove itself to me." Ranma's shoulders slumped as his speech came to an end, as if the world had been lifted from his shoulders and he could now stretch out the cramps.

" I see." Akane's also drooped, but hers was a posture of defeat, the world given to her to bear. Stiffly, slowly, her limbs shocked numb and her joints encased in frost, she stood up. Turning on her heel she left the room, not looking back. Whether or not she did not want the see Ranma, or did not want Ranma to see her, she was not sure. But the few feet to her room seemed like miles. And her body ached as she lay on the bed. Not that she could feel it, her whole mind still frozen, and her heart shattered.

The panda dared a squint. Peeking through the crack in his heavy, black eyelids he watched his son. The boy sat barely moving or breathing, staring dumbly at the door his fiancé had exited from. He was hurting, the panda saw. Many people would and had accused him of being selfish, not caring about other people's feelings or their suffering. But he hated to see his young charge in such pain. He had trained the boy well (even if he did say so himself, and often did) and knew that Ranma could handle almost physical injury or malady. But Genma knew that the boy was too vulnerable to emotional wounds, and he considered it his own failing that he never knew how to protect Ranma from such barbs. He had tried to teach his son the folly of trust, how to keep your feelings guarded lest they be betrayed by those close to you. But Ranma had never learned, he still wore his heart on his sleeve. And such a heart is easily torn apart.

He heaved a heavy, panda sigh; changing its sound at the last moment to make it sound like an embellished snore. It would not do for his son to know that he was awake, or he might suspect that he had overheard. That would not do. There were things to take care of, a son to take care of.

The sky was grey that morning, as if in grief. The sun refused to show its head, allowing dark clouds to conquer the overcast skies, withholding the light people of Nerima. The only life in the streets were the prowling cats and the swooping ravens; who did not sing yet filled the air with their caws. 

Ranma turned from the window to regard the bulging backpack that leant against the wall. Then he ran his gaze over what had been his room. Nothing. Only his father's things remained now, no trace of him to be seen. He looked back at his pack, finding it saddening that his life could be folded and packed away into one sack.

_Well If I'm going. _He thought, trying to summon his resolve. _I'd better go now._

Taking up his bag, he slung it over one shoulder and left the room. Closing the door behind him firmly.

He passed Akane's room and stared at her nameplate. She wouldn't be downstairs with the others, he knew. They all waited to see him off, except her, who did not wish to see him. She would not talk to him, he knew that also. But he had a promise to keep.

Ranma did not knock; he doubted she would have replied anyway. He just slid open the door, and took a single, hesitant step into his fiancés room. The girl sat at her desk, her eyes hidden by the blue-black hair that feathered her cheeks as she stared at the maths textbook open before her. Akane did not turn to look at him, but he had seen a subtle tensing of her muscles, so she knew he was there.

Guilt racked him. Perhaps he had been too harsh with her last night. Perhaps he there was a better way he could have let her down. Perhaps he should have considered her request. He hurriedly tried to stifle that line of thought. He was doing the right thing; there was no need and no time for doubts. But he could not help but doubt. The right thing would not be causing so much pain, especially not to the three most dear to him.

The guilt rose and roiled, like the seas at high tide. He wished he could take back every hasty word or insult her had ever spoke to her. But word faded to air as soon as they were uttered, one could never grasp them to take them back.

" Akane." He said, licking dry lips and wishing for something better to say. " I'm leaving now." He berated himself for an idiot as he heard his own words.         

She gave no reply, and he had not expected one. But now there was the silence. The tension in the air vibrated like a violin string, and the note played was anxious and melancholy. Life was becoming increasingly ridden with such uncomfortable quiet. He had begun to think that in these silences, something was being said that words were too feeble to relate, something spoken that he had no control of. However this time, he knew that it could not be something good.

Ranma found himself unable to withstand it, no martial arts or trained will could weather such a silent storm. The violin string snapped, and the tension leaked out through his heavy sigh. 

" Goodbye, Akane." He murmured. The sight of the carpet that was filling his downcast eyes finally registered with Ranma, and he forced himself to look at her. She had not moved, still facing the same page of the textbook. Even with her eyes hidden from him, her profile was still glowing with beauty.

" Y'know. You really are quite cute." He said, as he stepped backwards from the room.

When the sound of his words reached her, she gasped, her body jerking arrow straight. She spun to face him, and Ranma felt himself torn apart. Her beautiful, blue eyes were big and full of her soul: Watery and wide they shimmered with liquid cerulean. Her lips were slightly parted, words dying on the tip of her tongue. He saw her jaw trembling.

Ranma closed the door, unwilling to look anymore.

He descended the stairs like a broken puppet, listless and wooden. And so he remained as his family, some by blood and some by affection said their farewells. He stared blankly ahead as Soun Tendo wept and blubbered words about him being ' a fine lad' and ' bring honour to the Anything-Goes School.' He felt Nabiki's affectionate arm around his shoulders and heard but did not register the sarcastic jibe that passed as her goodbye. Happosai's ramblings about 'envy of the young', and nostalgic memories of his own training journey washed over him. He read but ignored the twin signs held in the panda's stubby paws: one reading [Good luck son, make me proud], and the other [Bring me some souvenirs]. Nodoka fixed him with a pointed stare; her blue-grey eyes both stern and apprehensive. He returned the glare equally. 

" Remember your promise," She reminded him sharply. His response was a slow nod, inclining his head both in agreement and in respectful bow.

He then passed through into the hall, none but Kasumi following. She smiled warmly, here eyes shimmering with unshed tears, as she handed him his cap. Ranma smiled in return, but laid it on the kitchen table.

" I'll grab it when I come back," he said.

Kasumi smiled wider, her face lighting up with an angelic glow. " It will still be here when you do." She said. " Take care of yourself, Ranma."

" You too, Kasumi. And take care of the others as well, especially…" He trailed off, the words unable to form and collapsing into a sigh. "…Y'know."

The message was received and understood as Kasumi nodded. And with a wave and a last glance around the familiar setting, Ranma Saotome turned and walked out of the Tendo home, fading up the path, and disappearing around the corner.

His pace was slow, his feet dragging across the path and his body bent as if weighed down by a burden. It was not the pack on his back, but the heart that sank heavy in his chest, that slowed him down. He could feel his spirit trying to surge forth, revelling in his freedom, in anticipation of the adventure and of the challenge that awaited him. But it struggled, bound by the strings that had been tied to his heart. The bonds that linked him to Nerima were not broken yet, the friends, the rivals, the family, and the fiancés. All tied him to this place. And despite the joy he found in staring his journey, there was pain as well, as those bonds stretched with every step he took.      

He ducked swiftly, allowing the attacker's flying kick to sail overhead. The large body landed heavily and spun angrily to face the boy, who pulled himself up from his crouch and stared back with narrowed eyes.

" Damn it!" Genma cursed. " I was sure I had you then, boy."

" Well what can I say, Pop? My 'Ranma sense' must have been tingling." 

Genma growled in reply to his son's sarcasm. " I can't let you leave, boy." He declared firmly.

" Let me guess. You worried about losing your free meal ticket at the Tendo's because I've gone A.W.O.L." Ranma snorted, already taking his pack from his shoulders and setting it down against the wire fence. 

" Believe it or not, boy. I'm doing this for your own good."

" I think I'll choose the second option. Not that I think you're a liar or anything." Ranma replied glibly.

" And so leaving Akane did not hurt did it?" Genma drove the words in like nails,

" What of Shampoo or Ukyo, was it easy to say goodbye to them? And did you enjoy the look of disappointment on your mother's face?" 

Ranma snarled wordlessly in reply, his fists clenching and unclenching in tandem with the angry pulse that thundered in his ears.     

" Your absence would only cause yourself and others pain. That's why I can't let you go." The bald man stood firm, and tried to look noble, posing with his hands on his hips. 

It was all the opening Ranma needed.

" Then I'll go through you!" He yelled and lunged at his father, fist thrusting out before him. Surprise flickered briefly across Genma's face and he dived aside. Ranma's anger left him off balance and with too much momentum, causing him to fall. But rolling into a breakfall, he spun to intercept the fat man's counter punch, batting it aside and lashing out with a kick that Genma had to jump back to avoid. Irritation and embarrassment at his own rookie mistake curbed Ranma's anger, and he watched his father warily. 

" Damn you, Ranma. Why can't you listen to me?" His father asked, his voice sounding concerned and desperate. But then his father could be a good actor when it suited him. The pigtailed youth jabbed at the fool's mouth hoping to pause to silence him.

Genma dodged to the side while blocking the fist, yet he completely missed the knee, which drove high into his gut. The man gasped as the air was expelled from his lungs, and swung a clumsy backfist in an attempt to ward off his son. Ranma grabbed the arm effortlessly, and then yanked it hard, his front arm wound over and then under the captured limb, completing the circuit by gasping his own wrist. The lock was on with a lifting of the arm and sinking of the hands, his forearm applying painful pressure to Genma's elbow as he forced the joint. His father winced, but glared venomously.

" So what are you going to do boy? Break my arm?" The elder Saotome asked, in a voice that was surprisingly calm for a man in his predicament. 

Ranma looked at the joint that he had captured. It would be so easy to break it. A sudden jerk, and then snap! It would show the old man who was boss, prove both to him and everyone else that Ranma Saotome controlled his own life, and no engagements or seppuku pacts were going to chain him down. 

But he couldn't. He may have broken Kuno's limb, but this was his father. And despite the hatred that burned for what the man had done to him; he could bear the old fool no rancour, nor malice. All he carried was the deep pity for man who had succumbed to and the memory of the arms that held him close as an infant, as a snowstorm raged around them.

" No," he said, relaxing his arms and removing the lock.

" Fool!" his father roared.

Genma pushed his knuckles into his son's ribs, sealing the breath in the young Saotome's lungs. Then bending down he grasped the boy's shirt and thrust a hand between his legs, scooping the pigtailed youth up by his inner thigh and spinning him across his own broad shoulders. Ranma whirled over his father like the tyre of a wheel, flipping to land heavily on his back. The impact drove the remaining air from him, and pain lanced through his spine.

Genma sat on his haunches nearby, but far enough that Ranma's angry yet ill-aimed fist swung by harmlessly. Rolling onto his front so that he could push himself up to his knees, grimacing as his newly bruised back protested against his motion. His eyes flared as if to try and reduce his father to ashes with his stare.

" That was low," he spat.

" Yes it was," the other man admitted plainly. " And that is why you cannot leave."

Ranma gritted his teeth and raised a white-knuckled fist that trembled with anger. 

" If you think you've beaten me old man, I'll tear you a new arse." He growled.

" I don't doubt you would." His father grunted. " I raised you to be the best," the fat man's chest puffed up with pride.

Ranma's anger was derailed by Genma's uncharacteristic frankness. Hand dropping limply, he sighed. " But I'm not the best Pop, that's what this trip is about."

" True, Ranma, and there are fighters out there that are far beyond me in skill and strength, yet would not hesitate you use a trick such as the one I just used, or worse."

" Don't try to coddle me Pop, you're not any good at it." Ranma said dryly as he rose to his full height. " I will have to deal with what's out there, no matter the risk. I won't grow otherwise, neither as a person or a warrior."

" It's what you will grow into that I worry about." His father cried. " Do you think I do not know what sort of man I am? I say that I always did things for the best, but do you truly think I am ignorant of the consequences, of the people hurt and lives ruined? I know all to well, but I did what had to be done to make you the man you are today. It was all too easy to me, so long as you became a man amongst men, the tribute to the art that I wanted you to be. But it will all be for naught if you leave." Genma paused fixing his son with a firm, steely gaze. Ranma said nothing, for once his father was being truly honest and he did not want to ruin the moment for fear it would pass to quickly.

" I love your mother dearly, Ranma. Yet do you think she would have married a man as selfish as I am? No, because I was not always this way? I was once young, proud and full of ideals like you are now, but the world changed that. Through the years; training under Master Happosai, the journeys through Asia alone, and raising you, I saw so much corruption in the world that my ideals were crushed and I had to become corrupt myself to survive.

" But you can be spared that. I can't let you leave, Ranma, because if I do the honourable man that your mother had yearned for, the man those three girls all love will die and you will become just like me."

" No." Ranma yelled, loud and determinate. " No, father because I'm not like you. I'm a lot thinner for a start." The pigtailed boy was smiling broadly, his face alight with mirth and renewed vigour. He smiled down at Genma's puzzled expression and the laughed harder as his man grew red with anger.

" Damn you, boy, take me seriously!" Genma yelled. 

" I am Pops, and that's why I want to go even more. All this corruption you babbled about, it sounds like quite the challenge." Ranma's grin had twisted into his trademark cocky smirk.

" Challenge?" Genma muttered.

"  Yeah," Ranma replied gleefully. " Travel the world improving my martial arts and yet still hold onto my honour, maybe learn more about it. Sound like a challenge to me. And you know I can never resist a challenge."

" It's a challenge you'll lose, boy?" The older man grunted.

" Now that officially makes it a challenge. Time to prove you wrong again, old man. See you around." Still smiling Ranma collected his pack, spun on his heel and strode away from his father with long strides.

_Hm, that was unexpected._ He thought as he considered his father's behaviour, actions that he would have never expected from the fat panda, feelings of concern and guilt he things he had thought were unknown to Genma Saotome. _Perhaps the old fool does care about more than himself, after all._

" I'm sorry, boy, but I can't let you ruin my chances with Nodoka or my future with the Tendo's."

 The words were the only warning Ranma got. Upon hearing them he turned to face any oncoming attack, only to see the large, steel fence post that had been hurtled towards him like a spear. With no time to dodge he flung his hands up and squeezed his eyes shut, muscles tensing as he braced for the impact.

The blow never came. His ear picked up a metallic chime almost over ridden by a heavy _thunk_: Then a surprised and pained yelp. Ranma's eyes flew open to assess whatever had transpired. He could barely make out the figure of his father sailing over the horizon, looking down towards the ground he spotted the diminutive crone, holding her skirt up around a withered leg still retracting after a violent punt.

" What an infuriating man," Cologne sneered.

" Ghoul!" He cried in shock.

The matriarch sniffed pointedly. " Really son-in-law," she chided. " I just saved you from some sever pain and you still show no respect for your elders." She tutted at the boy and shook her head disparagingly.  " Too bad I dropped my staff or I'd have whacked you good."

Her staff? A quick glance to the pavement located the gnarled weapon. The sight and the memory of a bizarre sound heard moments before was all he needed to realise that she had deflected his father's projectile by throwing her own.

" I could have dealt with it myself, you know." He grunted stubbornly, not willing to concede that she had saved him.

" I'm sure you could have." Her voice was so mild and indulging, that he knew she did not believe a word of his denial. " However that might have taken too long, and I wanted to talk to you now."   

Ranma was immediately on guard, eying the old woman out the corner of his eye as he tensed, watching for any sudden moves. " Are you here to try and stop me too?"

Cologne picked a pebble up from the roadside and threw it at him, bouncing the stone off of his head. " What did I say about respect, boy!" she snapped.

Ranma frowned sullenly and rubbed his head but said nothing.  

" I had thought you might be able to use these," She muttered, withdrawing a bulky, square package from nowhere, wrapped in brown paper and secured with white string she held it out towards him.

Taking the package he hurriedly unwrapped it, childlike curiosity overcoming his initial trepidation. The contents were revealed to be books: three of them, paperbacks of similar size. Ranma blinked in confusion and glanced at Cologne in silent question.

" Just a couple of things to keep you occupied and hopefully sharpen that dull mind of yours." She explained. She gestured at the title of the topmost book with her recovered staff. **The Bushido Shoshinsu, by Taira Shigesuke . **

" I thought it was the type of book that mother of yours would want you to read."  She said, watching him carefully to gauge his reaction. " And it couldn't hurt for you to learn a few manners." She chuckled at her comment, a dry, rasping sound.

Ranma nodded absently and looked at the next book, **Amazonian Combat Principles and Martial theory, by Ko Lun III. ** He could not stop the grin spreading across his face, this was more his sort of read.

" Thought you might like that one," She said sharing his smile.

            " Ko Lun?" He read slowly. " Did you write this."

" Why how good of you to notice," The Amazon leader replied with no trace of modesty. " I wrote this translated version in hopes that it would improve Shampoo's grasp of Japanese, and had it bound by a friend of mine."

" I just can't believe you wrote a book, I thought all you old master types kept everything on ancient, dust-covered scrolls."

" Too old fashioned." She shrugged her bony, shoulders. " It still happens, but every matriarch is obliged to write at least one manual related to the warrior arts, and I preferred this more efficient method of presentation. The book contains no description of techniques, being more about the origins, principles and strategies of their use."

Ranma nodded in understanding, a little disappointment in the lack of techniques did not remove his joy at holding a piece of Cologne's own mind. The smile dropped of his face when he read the title of the next book.

" Physics," he cried incredulously, and quickly rescanned the printed words again to make sure he saw them right. Nope, they wouldn't change, still reading **An Introduction to Modern Physics, by P.Tipler.  **Why had the old bat, given him this.

" What does this have to do with the martial arts?" He asked as soon as the question sprung up in his mind.

" A better question would be: What doesn't it have to do with Martial Arts." She responded simply.

" Huh?" He grunted. " Don't talk in riddles Granny."

She bonked him across the head with her staff again. " As I said, boy, the books are to help develop your mind. That can't happen if I have to tell you everything." She then sighed. " Although I did write some comments to point you in the right direction."

Ranma flipped through the pages of the book seeing and array of dense text, diagrams and photographs; but he could only find evidence of writing on the inside of the cover. Cologne's continued speech prevented his investigation, however"

" Speaking of directions," she said with a knowing smile. " You'll find the one you seek to the north west, still in town but you'd best hurry to catch up."

" H…How'd you…" He stuttered amid open-mouthed gawping, completely flummoxed by her near telepathic insight.

" Hush boy. Let an old woman have her few tricks." She laughed.

_Few tricks, my arse!_ He thought dryly. Knowing that was all he was going to get from her, he packed his new possessions in one of his pack's many pockets, and prepared to set off again. He glanced back at the old woman, still perched on her staff.

" Look old ghoul…er…thanks…thanks again." 

" Why son-in-law, expressing gratitude twice in one week. You must be ill." She chortled. " Don't strain yourself, just try to keep yourself in one piece to return someday."  Her gaze then turned from motherly affection to a deadly, steel gaze. Ranma's mouth dried and his throat tightened. " It would not do for you to hurt my Great-granddaughter more than she is already."

Ranma swallowed audibly.

Seeing that the boy had got the message, Cologne smiled again and then vaulted upwards, pogo-ing off over the 

rooftops and the Nerima skyline. 

Ranma sighed, heart cut deeply by the reminder of the pain inflicted upon Shampoo, upon all of his fiancés.  Hefting his pack on his shoulder, the burden feeling momentarily heavier. He summoned forth all his excitement about his journey and the new challenges, and clung to it like a life-preserver to keep from drowning any further in his guilt. Inhaling deeply, and setting himself once again, he trudged onwards down the empty street.

The fire crackled and popped, casting orange light around the gloom of the vacant lot. Flames flickered in the breeze making the harsh, twisted shadows of broken tyres and old signs dance with macabre life. The sounds of passing cars and distant sirens hung in the air, blending strangely with the more natural sound of rustling branches and chirping crickets. 

Ryoga moved through his kata with strong, harsh movements and powerful blows. The firelight glinted off the sweat that covered his bear arms, droplets flew from his hand as the swung in long, arching punches. His feet slid along the floor as he slid through his stances, his body kept low; the weight straining his legs and forging them like iron. Fists became claws, became paws, and became horns; growls and kiai spouting between his gritted fangs as he immersed himself in the animal forms he had summoned.

Tiger with orb flowed into snake basks in mist and then to hungry tiger emerges. From Golden leopard speeds through jungle down to Tiger crouching on ground rising upwards into Dragon soars into the clouds. It was one of his favourite forms, as it had been to the great Lam Sai Wing before him. 

Ryoga paused, both hand halting midway into the swing that would form Ox charges with its horns. His senses were vibrating like guitar strings, the Ki that flowed through the kata was reacting to something nearby. 

" I don't like being spied on!" He growled loudly, rising out of his stance and sweeping his gaze along the surroundings, spying nothing but scattered junk and vacant tarmac. He could feel his hackles rise and his anger start to boil.

" Stop hiding like some coward I know you're there!" He bellowed hands balling in to fists. " Come out and face me."

A shadow flickered along the rickety, gap-ridden, wooden fence that stood beside him. He threw clawed hands out at the barrier. " SHISHI HOKODAN." He yelled, the green wall of power blasted through its target, showering splinters of wood everywhere.

But not a sign of any life when the dust cleared.

" COME OUT!" He raged.

His eyes bogged as a heavy object slammed onto his head. He staggered momentarily as the blow landed, but his body was toughened beyond such impacts and he simply stood arched at the pressure on his head. He seethed with fury and incensed outrage, as only one person would ever stand on his head like a perch.

" RANMA!"

" Yeah?" the pigtailed youth's voice replied from above him.

" What are do you think you are doing on my head?"

" I'm wondering what the poor fence had done to piss you off!" Came the dry response.

Ryoga roared wordlessly and swung claws at his unwanted passenger. He seized nothing but air as the Saotome heir flipped from his roost, turning somersaults to land gracefully on his toes, facing the lost boy from several paces away. The fanged martial artist wasted no time in charging across the intervening distance to assault his rival with a frenzy of attacks.

" Calm…down…Ryoga" Ranma protested as he back-pedalled rapidly across the lot, swerving and deflecting the incoming strikes. " I ...just…want to…talk" Ryoga's punch sailed wide as his opponent slipped to the left he struck out with a low kick but could only manage a glancing blow to the other boy's shin. He was still satisfied with the momentary wince that flashed over Ranma's features; _He always was soft, _he gloated silently.

" If you wanted to talk," Ryoga moved in close for a cutting elbow that Ranma blocked on crossed forearms. " You could have done it without," with his rival's guard over his face, Ryoga snaked his hands low and grasped two fistfuls of the braided boy's shirt. "STANDING ON MY HEAD!" Lifting him up and over in a fast arc, the bandana-clad fighter used his monstrous strength to fling his foe through the air.

His anger increased as he watched Ranma take control of his flight and gracefully twist in midair so that he landed in a cat-like 

crouch. 

" Fine, I'm sorry," the other youth relented. " Didn't think you'd take it so badly, must of forgotten who I was talking to."

Ryoga withdrew as out his fighting posture still irritable at the reminder that Ranma Saotome was totally useless at apologies. _And you would think that he would have had enough practise, _he thought bitterly.

" What do you want Ranma?" He said harshly. " Aside that is from using by skull as some sort of pit stop."        

" What makes you think I want anything," Ranma asked with a naïve innocence that made Ryoga even more suspicious. " Can't a guy just stop by to talk to a friend?"

" We're not friends!" Ryoga spat without thinking, he thought he saw a twinge of hurt flicker across the Saotome lad's face, but it was gone so fast he decided that he had imagined it.

" Fine," Ranma replied, very flatly sliding an old packing crate closer to the fire and sitting down. He stared into the flames wordlessly, obviously waiting for the lost boy to join him. 

With a heavy sigh Ryoga crossed to where he had left his pack, bending to collect the small, fold out stool that he carried with him. As he slid it from the canvas compartment, amidst a clutter of blankets, clothes and food, he noticed the other sack that had been placed next to his own. It was similarly bulging, with the same sort of items, compass, rations, first aid kit visible through mesh pouches.

" I've left the dojo," Ranma muttered still looking into the flames.

Devine rage immediately surged within Ryoga again, he spun on the pigtailed boy, brandishing his battle umbrella threateningly. 

" What have you done this time, Ranma?  If you hurt Akane I'll…"

" She's fine, you moron, I'm going on a training trip." Ranma yelled.

" You mean you weren't thrown out." Ryoga asked puzzled, it seemed a little unlikely.

"NO!" came the indignant reply.

" How could you leave Akane behind like that, you irresponsible jerk?" Ryoga cried.

" She'll get over it." Ranma responded sullenly.

" How can you be so uncaring, you bastard."

" Shouldn't you be _happy_ I left."

" Not if she's unhappy."

" Would you rather I go back and make her happy?"

" No!"

" Make up your damn mind, P-chan!"

" RANMA!" Ryoga screamed, launching himself forwards and bringing the umbrella slicing towards Ranma's head. The pigtailed warrior jumped away as the weapon pulverised the crate he had sat on.

" Hey, I was sitting on that." He whined.

Ryoga growled and prepared for another strike but Ranma shot forwards and swung out a fast roundhouse, catching the fanged boy's hand and launching the umbrella paces away.

" Stop that!" He cried. " I told you, I just want to talk."

" Then don't insult me or call me P-chan." Ryoga snarled.

" You started it."

" You deserve it."

" Well you…" Ranma began and then halted. " No wait, I'm stopping this right now before it gets even more juvenile."

" Who are you calling juvenile?" The lost boy grunted.

" Stop it, lets just talk for once without having to beat each other bloody. That's what I came for." Ranma suggested calmly.

Ryoga backed off and returned to fetching and folding out his chair, sitting down on it sulkily. His crate smashed Ranma had to settle for resting in the hole of a dirty tyre, the disgusted sneer on his face said he was not happy about it, and that pleased Ryoga greatly. 

" I suppose I owe you an apology," Ranma grunted. " I acted like a complete arse the last time we met." 

" So what's new," Ryoga sneered, before he could help it. Ranma glowered at him.

" You weren't exactly acting like Mr Charm yourself." The other boy retorted.

 But anyway, I still want to apologise. I've had a lot of things to think about since then, a lot of home truths have been revealed." 

Ranma quickly spun his tale. He started with how Ryoga's comments had enraged him from his bed of bitterness into frenzied training. Ryoga felt an inward swell of pride that his plan to rouse Saotome had succeeded, but from Ranma's description it did work exactly to his scheme, and he doubted that Akane would have been glad of it. Did the arrogant bastard have any compassion? _How could the loss of a duel send him so crazy?_  

The bandana-clad youth was quite ignorant of the hypocrisy of that last thought.

Then he described a viscous duel with Kuno. Ranma seemed a little sheepish as he spoke of the event. It seemed like the pigtailed boy was ashamed. Ryoga continuously blinked and squinted just to make sure that he was not delusional. However the guilt did not seem directed towards his actions or the beating he gave Kuno, but more at his loss of control. Ryoga could understand that, control was one of the most vital virtues of a martial artist (this time part of him did notice the hypocrisy, but he quashed it). Also the lost one was never too fond of Kuno, despite occasionally joining with him to visit some divine beatings upon the Anything-Goes heir. But the bokken-wielding fanatic was yet another rival for Akane's affections, and Ryoga had always thought him two brain cells short of a pair. Not as bad as that rabbit-boiler of a sister though. He fought to repress a shudder.

Ranma's reached a part of his story, when involving a rather passionate conversation with his mother. He breezed over the incident quickly, eyes flickering over the tarmac at his feet, hands wringing themselves nervously. There were wounds left by that conversation, Ryoga could see it in those blue-grey eyes, and he seemed unwilling to divulge too much. The fanged boy could not blame him: his memories of Mrs Saotome were of a woman who carried a lot of intimidation in her small, prim frame. Ranma merely mentioned that Nodoka had brought his sense of honour, and his whole way of life into question. He did not say much else and Ryoga did not probe, despite his animosity towards the braided youth, his emotional cuts were his own; but the lost boy suspected they were caused by the katana his mother carried.

" So you see, Ryoga, I had to leave. All my life people have spoke about honour, and the Way of the Warrior. But 

what does that mean? My father and Happosai were less then stellar examples, so how am I supposed to know what honour is?"

" Doing everything that you never do?" Ryoga snorted.

Ranma glowered in reply. " For someone who likes to stand in for a girl's stuffed toy, you are awfully preachy."

His fangs ground against lips as he snarled, Ranma's verbal riposte slicing through his moral protests and hostility. Chagrined, Ryoga grumbled and glared across the fire at his rival.

" So, Mr-I-know-everything-Saotome, what is honour?"

" I don't know, that's what I'm going to find out." The pigtailed lad replied, staring into the flames.

The sharp-toothed by remained staunchly sceptical, " You probably just want to go and look for more trouble."

His answer was a wide-side long smirk that conquered Ranma's whole face. His yes sparkled with a merry and mischievous glint. " I hope so," he declared smugly. Ryoga shook his head; the boy would never change. But the pigtailed one continued speaking. " And that's why I want you to come with me."

Ryoga's jaw dropped and his eyebrows tried to crawl behind his bandana. "W…What?!" He spluttered when he regained control of his mouth.

" I said I want you to come with me," Ranma repeated.

" Why?" 

" I don't know," he shrugged with great exaggerated drama, his grin widening. 

 Maybe I want to keep you around, having a dope like you with me would just make me look better than I already do."

" Ranma!" Ryoga yelled. " Do you always insult the people you ask for a favour you arrogant git."

" Hey, I'm extending a gracious invitation." Ranma protested.

" I'm surprised you can even pronounce gracious, never mind actually knowing the meaning of the word." Ryoga snorted. " Besides why would I want to go with you, I want to beat you to a pulp, not go rambling through the hills of east Asia like a boy scout troop."

" Why not? You're going to wandering through those hills anyway. Why not take some company?" Ranma argued

" Because it's you, and you're a jerk." Ryoga retorted flatly. " Besides, I don't want to get caught up in the menagerie of crazy people who inevitably want to kill you."

" That's part of the fun."

" And it's that sort of fun you should be avoiding," The fanged boy lectured. 

" And it's not the type of thing honour would demand."

Ranma's smile dropped from his face and his eyes returned to the flames. " No. It is what duty demands." He sighed. " Duty. That is what my mother said that honour was all about: My duty to the Art, as the heir of the Anything-Goes School. She told me my duty was to marry Akane, but how can it be honourable to sacrifice my integrity and marry someone I don't love."

" You don't love Akane?" Ryoga gasped, his head a confused whirl of anger, happiness and shock.

" I didn't say that." Ranma replied quickly.

" You do love her?" Ryoga snapped, ah there was the pure anger, comforting; like an old friend.

" I'm saying I don't know what love is," Ranma yelled. " I'm saying that my duty to the Art, must involve more than mindlessly marrying and running a dojo. I'm saying that my life and my nature demands more, as does the Art itself"

" And what would that be?" The fanged boy asked dubiously.

" The Martial Arts are alive, and like all living things they wish to grow, to progress and to evolve. And that's what I want for myself. The way of the Anything-Goes School is to adapt and advance through adversity. My own skills have grown in the same way, but I can't wait for challenges and fighters to happen through adversity. The battle with Loaf showed me there is a world of fighters out there, and I'm going to go find it." Ranma's wide grin had returned.

" Well that's all rather fancy and noble," Ryoga snorted, waving his hand dismissively. " But what's that got to do with me."

" What hasn't it got to do with you pig boy? You want the same thing?" 

Ryoga growled at the insult and then laughed bitterly at the pigtailed boy's comments. " Don't be stupid, Ranma."

" Don't deny it, Ryoga." Ranma leaned forward fixing his blue-grey gaze with the emerald eyes of the other martial artist. " I may have apologised for what I said when we least spoke, but I don't think I was wrong."

" What are you babbling on about?"

" You like to fight as much if not more than I. That's why you're always charging about and waving your umbrella around like you had just sat on the pointy end."

" No, Ranma, I just want to defeat you."

" And what happens after that? Not that you'll ever beat me? But if we lived in bizarre world and you did, what would you do? Sit up on your laurels and never train again, marry Akane and try and get through the wedding night without loss of blood?  Get a job in a factory even though you can't get to work without a tour of Antarctica?

" Face it, Ryoga? You keep coming back to fight me because you haven't beaten me. I'm a test, your own strength and skill is matched against mine, if I come out on top; you train harder. You want to defeat me because I'm better."

" How can you stand to be so arrogant?" Ryoga growled. " Better this and better that. I fight you because you're a jerk. Because you stole my bread. Because you gave me my curse, and because you don't deserve Akane." 

" If it was about Akane, why not ambush Kuno, or Gosunkugi. Hell go after Shinnosuke or Kirin, she actually liked those two. No you come after me instead, because I'm deep down you think me a worthy opponent, a challenge. And it's not just me: when we searched for the Open-Water kettle, you hunted down Lime. Why? Because he had had beaten you and because he was strong. And if I'm not mistaken there have been others in your travels."

Ryoga blinked and then hurriedly cast his eyes to the floor, but Ranma saw it and it was the only confirmation he needed.

" I knew it. That's because like me you yearn for the challenge, you love the thrill of matching your skill with another. When you have a powerful opponent in front of you, you don't worry about the girls or the curses or the grudge; all that remains is whether you are stronger or weaker than him."

Ranma's words weighed heavy on the lost boy's heart and revolved like a whirlwind in his head. Was it true? He was beginning to question himself. He had always told himself that he had fought for righteous reasons, revenge for his curse, freeing Akane from an unwanted engagement. But Ranma was right, he had gone after Herb for the ladle, but he challenged Lime for himself. And he had fought with others, sure there had always been other reasons for it, but maybe, deep down he had done just for the sake of doing it, just for the thrill of the fight.

" Can I really be so shallow?" He asked himself, it was a whisper but Ranma caught it.

" Shallow?" The pigtailed one repeated. " That's what my mother said it was. That fighting others because they were stronger than you was arrogance not honour. And maybe it is, if being the strongest is all that matters to you. But what if it's the challenge not the title that you want?" He shrugged, the firelight glinting as his satin clad shoulders moved. " I heard a quote in History class once."

" You were awake?" Ryoga exclaimed with mock shock.

" Akane had just thrown a ruler at me, but that's beside the point. The quote was by some Western guy, who wanted to climb Mount Everest. When asked why he replied, 'Because it's there!' Is that so different from what we're doing? In think not. And no-one thought him shallow, in fact he was praised for his desire for a challenge."

" I guess," Ryoga grumbled, not quite sure what to think of that ideal.

" Besides you should want to come with me, even without my great company." Ryoga glanced up and stared daggers at the Saotome heir for that cocky statement. But Ranma continued unfazed. " You see as I travel I'm bound to pick up some new techniques, maybe some pretty powerful ones. How do you think you're going to beat me if that happens? Unless you're there to learn how to counter it, or some new moves yourself. "

Ryoga paused to consider that. He had to admit, his rival had a point. If Ranma learnt a strong new move, how would he ever defeat him?  The bitter memories of his fight fit the pigtailed boy after he had learnt the Chestnut fist returned. The lost one had not even been able to touch him; it took Cologne and the Bakusai Tenketsu to let him match speed with endurance. What if Ranma learnt something even more powerful than his Ultimate Shishi Hokodan? But if he was there to learn the techniques, or even something better…

"  Wait a minute, what do you get out of this?" Ryoga asked sceptically.

" I get a sparring partner, and someone to keep me on my toes. And on the straight and narrow."

" Huh." Ryoga was confused, straight and narrow what?

" My dad had said that being on the road alone would corrupt me, like it did him. Probably he was blowing sand up my ass in order to get me to stay, but my Mom said the same thing, that becoming stronger would make me more likely to abuse that strength. I need someone who understands why I'm doing this, someone who does the same to keep me on the honourable road. Someone I can trust when things get tough, and I know I can do that with you. The way I see it id were both travelling on the same path in our hearts, the Path of the Warrior, we may as well travel on the same path in the world." He smiled at the lost boy, a warm, friendly smile.

Ryoga was speechless: he had never imagined the arrogant, boorish Saotome could be so eloquent. He was moved by Ranma's words. Maybe Ranma did consider him a friend as Akane had said, someone to trust when push came to shove. There had been times when it had seemed so: How Ranma had helped him with Akari, or the age-reversing mushrooms, and how the weakened fighter had been so happy to see him when he showed up during his Hiryu Shoten Ha training, or risking himself to find the kettle to restore the pigtailed boy's manhood when it was in his benefit if he stayed a girl. He even remembered shaking Ranma's hand and insisting that he come to the wedding when the Sakura cakes had proclaimed him Akane's true love. In the past Ranma had always been quick to take advantage of such moment for his own needs, but he was desperate at times and maybe his new honour-focussed outlook would let them become true friends.

" Ranma," He breathed. " I don't know what to say."

" Say yes, it's not like you have a choice and it will save on my travel expenses since you seem to be able to cross oceans on the way to the corner shop."

Then again, maybe not.

" Bastard! What do you mean I have no choice?" Ryoga roared.

" Well I'm just going to come with you wherever anyway so you might as well let me."

Surging to his feet so fast his chair toppled over, Ryoga let his lips peel back in a fanged smirk and pointed down at the pigtailed boy mockingly.

" I'd like to see you try. You'll just get lost in my dust." He folded up his chair and hurriedly grabbed his pack, turning his back on the fire and setting off across the lot. 

" You'd get lost in your own dust you directionless fool." Ranma called to him. He glanced back to see Saotome hastily grabbing his own bag and jogging after. Seeing his nemesis making up the distance Ryoga broke into run, hoping to put enough space between them so he could duck into an alley without being seen. " You can't keep up with me, Ranma." He yelled back.

Ranma however was already right behind him. " Just call me your shadow, bacon-breath."

With the other boy so close, Ryoga abandoned his plan and just kept running down the road as fast as his legs would go.

" Stop chasing me you pervert, has you're curse turned you gay."

" You wanker. Just for that I'm going to sing pig songs all the way."

Ranma Saotome and Ryoga Hibiki are two completely different people on the same path. The future lies before them like a dark, open road. But they will face the challenges ahead with eager hearts and fists. They will face them, as Warriors. 

**AN- **It's done, yaaay! Ten chapters, when it was only supposed to be three, but the first part of honour and pride is finished. Also this is the first pre-read chapter, say hi to my pre-reader Wandering Oni.

The actual notes for this Chapter will hopefully be short, because I've decided to publish some end of saga notes. Basically just some thank you, some overdue credit, and a bit about what I want to do with this story, what I'm thinking about with my portrayal of characters and themes. Cause strangely enough I do actually things some things out.

Anyway. What I wanted to do with the chapter was have Ranma leave Nerima and join up with Ryoga, but I wanted to do it different then most. The usual way for Ranma to leave is to just head off in the dead of night and have Akane pine for him. That wouldn't be very nice for a guy trying to live life more honourably. The other way is too have him say bye to Akane, and fight his way out.  Didn't want that either, but I didn't want him to get off Scott free. So the idea was to make the hurdles and obstacles more emotional rather than physical, a weight on the soul rather than the body. Also one of the main things I wanted throughout the fic was to show that the fiancés all cared for him deeply and he cared for them in some way too. So I showed how his leaving affected them, and how that affected him. I also wanted there reactions to be original, for them to act withing their character but unexpectedly, so I had Shampoo get sentimental, Ukyo get a bit angry, and Akane a bit depressed. Its all possible in their personalities just not how most people think of them.

As for the Genma bit, I had to include some action, the fic is about martial arts. However I also wanted to stress that no matter how much we wished he did, Ranma does not hate Genma and Genma does acre about Ranma. Despite one reviewer I do read the manga, and the hells cradle issue shows the above clearly. But more on that in the end of saga notes.

Hopefully now the real stories began, the fic will be a little more light-hearted but still with some drama (but more spaced out) and eventually some romance, a well rounded story with plenty of butt-kicking. What do you think I should focus on?

And a question for you all, who do you think I plan to set Ranma up with? Send your answers on a stamped address envelope, or just leave a review.

Cheers 

Beer-monster.          

          

  

    

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	11. Notes!

**The Mantis Saga,**

**Appendix and Notes**

Actually just a way for me to shoot of my big mouth.

With Beer-monster.

Okay. So I want to share my ideas, this may seem awfully arrogant to presume that you care what I think. But here we go anyway. 

**Acknowledgements:**

Okay credit where credits due. Obviously thanks to Rumiko Takahashi for the obvious. I owe a lot to evil Nabiki and Shade cause without the New Ranmascan project I wouldn't have gotten to enjoy this bizarre world. Thanks to Wandering Oni for agreeing to be my pre-reader and letting me pester him endlessly. Thanks to my favourite authors for teaching me how to write and such. And finally thanks to for writing Ranma Vs the World, which inspired this fic.

I'm not gonna blow sand up your arses and say that the above was the greatest or best written fic, but it did display martial arts, and did it well.

**Theme: **You see the real reason I like the Ranma series it the way it displays the martial arts, the fighting. I am obsessed with martial arts and the series has duels and challenges, things in martial arts history I've always been fascinated in. You may all say, who cares there are other martial, arts series but Ranma is one of the few that got the balance right. Take Dragonball, nice series but when the characters have the power to destroy planets you've gone too far. Fist of the North Star? Too many exploding heads. Ranma had the mix of duel and techniques with enough fantasy Ki techniques for interest but no universal damage. My favourite episodes are the one were he fights tough opponents, Herb, Ryu Kumon, Ryoga and the Shishi Hokodan. 

            Ranma Vs the World blended Ranma with the only other series that got the balance, Street Fighter. It had Ranma chasing Ryu to learn a new technique and improve his skills. The training, fighting and improving fascinates me personally, maybe cause as a real person in the real world I can't do that. Also all the great historical masters felt the same way and took trips and fought duels, Wong Fei Hung, Yip Man etc.

            So I decided to write a martial arts Ranma fic. I wanted to use Ranma ½ to explore the martial arts, in a way I haven't seen in fics before. So I came up with the premise of Ranma and Ryoga travelling the world searching out challenges and learning techniques. I wanted to show Ranma get stronger and better instead of having him disappear and then return super-powerful as many have done. 

            I also felt that that sort of things is what Ranma would want to do after all he loves challenges and can't just wait for people to come to Nerima. But he was tied to Nerima, by fiancés and school so I had to do something dramatic to make him feel the need to leave and to improve. Enter Loaf and Nodoka.

            Anyway, as I wrote this fic I began to think about the virtues important to the master martial artist in Chinese but especially Japanese and the ideals of the Samurai. I thought of the past masters Funakoshi, Ueshiba, Choki Motobu, Bruce Lee and Chan Heung. All very different people but all said to be obsessed with learning and improving as well as being very honourable people. Honour, that concept particularly fascinated me, what is it to a Warrior and what is its place in the modern world. So I really wanted to explore that theme. Honour and Pride, or two conflicting but essential virtue of the true martial artist, but I felt that although he means well and is true to his code Ranma's sense of honour is Miss Guided so by having Nodoka question his beliefs, the narrative could show how his ideals change as we explore what honour is.

            So basically there is a point to all this drama, and there are things I'm trying to do with this fic. One of the main things is originality, something that with so many Ranma fics out there is running thin. And there is so many traditionalists out there that they shun all attempts to play with the characters in new ways or to portray anyone but Akane as other than scenery.

**Characters: **Well obviously you're a fan of Ranma otherwise you wouldn't be reading this. In fact why are you anyway, I'm babbling! The fact is Ranma ½ is a comedy manga; which is quite a shallow genre. Everything the characters do is geared to slapstick comedy, that's why hitting your fiancé with a mallet is not considered abuse, why thinking you're a samurai does not get you locked up, and why Genma has not been arrested for child cruelty. However this does not create developed characters (yes I said it, I'm going to get stoned aren't I, and not in the funky, hallucinating way), except for Ranma and Akane the other figures are cardboard cut outs with swords. However, if you want to write a well-rounded story you need 3-dimensional characters, especially if you're a writer like me who likes to get in peoples heads. So you have to fill in the blanks while still being true to the character.

            The way I see it the characters have a general behaviour and a inner behaviour, eg the general behaviour is the way most people see and portray character, but sometimes in certain situations in the manga an inner self shows. For example Ranma's usual attitude to Genma is of anger, but in the Hell's cradle issue we see he does care for the old git. So for the guy who said I don't read the manga, I do, and use them to delve deeper into characters. Unfortunately you can't see all the pieces in the anime and manga, so you have to use your judgement and try not to let wishful thinking lead you away. Just my little philosophy on the portrayal of Ranma characters and below is my thoughts and why I wrote them as I did.

**Ranma: **I freely admit Ranma is quite OOC in this fic, but Ranma is a optimistic, happy-go-lucky, confident, character but the plot of the fic did not really call for that yet. First he was depressed at the lack of challenge, the at his loss to Loaf, then bitter at Ryoga's comments, then unsure of himself after the talk with Nodoka, then guilty at hurting the girls. So not really the Ranma we're used to, but we did see him return towards the end, and as hopefully the fic will be more light-hearted and we'll see him some more. 

            As I said Honour and Pride are the two great parts of a martial artists personality. And for those people who I count as such, these are the two main drives I wrote for them. Ranma especially. His pride gives him the desire to challenge himself, to become stronger and better, which also makes him a little arrogant, but hey he's learning. Honour is really vital to him, it defines his way of life as a martial artist and always makes him want to do the right thing, but he doesn't want to hurt anyone thus complicating matters especially where his fiancés are concerned. But the problem is he's no longer sure what honour is, and its not really a cast-iron concept so he's a little baffled. He wants to do the right thing but is not sure what that is. And that's the dilemma.

**Ryoga: **Well I haven't had much opportunity to really get into Ryoga's head, but I will write what I think of him. Ryoga is a nice guy, and he wants to whats right by his own sense of honour. But his problem is his passion, it run away from him. He always takes things to extremes, swearing vengeance for a stepped on foot etc, professing love for a little kindness. But deep down he's just a shy, sensitive guy. I think he is as proud about his skills as Ranma is but insecure about all else, he wants challenges and improvement to but thinks such things a petty, so makes big deals of everything to justify himself. He's also a complete fool where girls are concerned. His relationship with Ranma is kind of brotherly, they do have moments when they seem to be good friends but the rivalry between them often clouds all that and each will always consider the other the benchmark to measure their skill. A friendlier Goku/Vegeta thing.

**Nodoka: **Well what's to say. Tradition and austerity sums it all up. I think of her as a mix of Samurai and eighteenth century, upper class English gentlewoman. Old fashioned to fault and obsessed with duty. Duty is the essence of honour but to her it leaves room for nothing else. She feels that as his mother she knows Ranma's duty better than he, and will not rest until he fulfils it. She cannot see more outside what she feels Ranma's obligation to be (ie marry Akane) and thinks that things like love and free will are just obstacles to what is ultimately for the best: A shame really because she obviously loves her son very, very much, but happiness is second to honour. The biggest criticism of my work came at Chapter 8 with the whole seppuku debacle. Most people seemed to think that Ranma should have told her where to go and that he was too strong to be cowed by her. Unfortunately this is where wishful thinking come in to play, and it had often been the cause of OOCness. We all want Ranma to do that, but the manga shows that Ranma is quite weak where his mother is concerned. He loves her deeply and wants nothing more than her approval, he yearns for it. To have her act so ashamed as she did in that scene is bound to make him react strongly. Or at least I think so.

            Well then we come to the fiancés. It gonna get bumpy.

Unfortunately since Akane is recognised as the true fiancé most of the other girls are depicted as lifeless cut outs, only to hassle Ranma until he finally tells them to sod off and marries Akane, which they do and are soon matched with anyone who comes to pass. It would take a very good writer a lot of time to write a convincing reason why Mousse and Shampoo would end up together. But these characters are people with feelings, so I wanted to get inside them and rumble about.

**Shampoo: **Okay first, she's not a bimbo. There have been several indications, which show she has a brain not least her imaginative schemes. But like Ryoga she is very passionate and lets her heart rule her head most of the time. And her heart wants Ranma.

It would be easy for Shampoo to fall for someone like Ranma. Surrounded by men who cower around women ands think the best way to woo her is to try and beat her up, a man with Ranma's spirit and skill is very attractive to someone like Shampoo. Also Ranma's battle prowess probably arouses her quite a lot as I hinted at. However her culture is different and I tried to show that. First it is obvious in the manga and anime she has no qualms about sexuality, in ancient myths Amazons were quite highly sexed and such things were quite open. So her physical desire for Ranma is quite undeniable. However her culture has made her quite happy with showing this but her emotional desires are something different, It si quite easy to imagine in a society where women marry men for breeding quality and strength, sex would be quite open but romance would be next to non-existent. Real love is something their culture knows little of so when the depth of her feelings for Ranma become known to her, she is blown away and had no idea what to do with such feelings or how to express them, thus we fall back on the physical because she understands that. Honour and pride are important to her as an Amazon warrior, but not in the same way. Although I'm sure she would enjoy competition and rivalry as much Ranma, that's why she was the village's champion, her sense of honour is different. Her beliefs mostly focussed on strengthening the tribe, by any means, it is her first loyalty and the reason behind some quite reprehensible antics. But her love for Ranma could never be doubted. Shampoo is a great example of culture clashes, and makes her quite interesting.

**Ukyo: **The Joey to Ranma's Dawson, the classic best friend romance, which is one of my favourite plot lines. Anyway, Ukyo strikes me as opposite to Shampoo in a way: as she never hides how much she cares for Ranma, but more physical urges are embarrassing to her, as does having to say those three words that Shampoo says all the time. She is more quiet and slow with Ranma, knowing that she'll always be a good friend until he finally picks her. She is more a case of quiet yearning, a dreamer, she'll work in her restaurant serve the people and fantasise about her pigtailed knight. But in the real world she is his friend before fiancé and uses that position to gradually bring him around to her side with more subtle means.

**Akane: **The default Ranma girl. There are two main portrayals of who most consider the true fiancé, strangely these correspond to the two camps of Ranma fans. From the Akane lovers, the sweet, innocent but independent girl who is just misunderstood and a soon as Ranma admits his love they'll skip hand in hand to the sunset. What crap! The other ideal is that Akane is really a bitter, recriminating cruel bitch who hates Ranma and rejoices in making his life miserable. Okay so the female lead of Ranma 1/2 is in fact Atilla the Hun, not likely. Akane is by no means perfect, but she's not a monster. I see her as a mess of contradictions. On the outside she is strong and independent, stubborn who always tries to help but takes no crap. But on the inside she's a scared, little girl. Tough but vulnerable, brave but frightened, confident but insecure: that's Akane. Those who don't believe me, think of the movies, she acted all strong by slapping Kirin and dumping the pickles, but when he became interested she just sat and pined for Ranma. A contradiction.

As for Ranma I think at the start she did not like Ranma, but as she got to know him she fell for him. A classic Pride and Prejudice romance, a novel which instilled the idea that is two people act like they hate each other, they must love each other. Nope! Akane still treats Ranma with such anger, is that she's scared of her feelings and the distrusting and violent routine is a safe and familiar haven. It took Ranma's leaving to make her break the cycle, but will it stay broken? I'll just say that for a A/R relationship to work it would take a lot of work and a lot of time to develop trust and respect, cause sometimes love ain't enough. A challenge for any author, and I like challenges (is that a hint or am I trying to throw you off guard.)

            Something I want in this story is to keep the reader guessing who Ranma will end up with, until I start the true romance and spring the answer.       

**Martial arts: **For those of you who are familiar with the martial arts I thought I would just outline the one's to be used primarily. Ranma's style will mostly be a mix of Japanese arts, Karate and Jiu-jitsu, with some elements of Wing Chun and Tai Chi. A style that mostly focuses on speed and technique. Ryoga by contrast is more about power and strength. His style will be a huge mix of various international styles to reflect his wandering. These will include Southern style of Kung Fu, Hung Gar and Tiger Claw, also Choy Lay Fut, Muay That and various forms or wrestling such as Greco-Roman, Pancrase and Submission. The other characters I'm not sure of yet, but Shampoo will probably have White Crane Kung Fu mixed with Eagle Claw, and Ukyo a style based on the Japanese halberd art Naginata-jitsu with some Ninja style use of weapons.

            Well that's it I babbled, shared my thought and mostly dissed and analysed the crap out of the Ranma fanfic genre. I probably offended a lot of people, but get used to it. Well I'm of to get a cup of tea, a beer and then hit the hay. Nighty-night.


End file.
